





wy V^V V^y V 

■y** *•-%# /\ : .j^k. ; ** ! 

^^ % <? >a^°- /\^* X 




W 




vv 



u u»V 



y ^ vSBK* a* 










W 
.#*% 



























^ # 
?*<? 



v<s. v 



^#" . 















'•* v^ 








; 'v 



^ - ^- 0* 





"W 

^q 



;• ^ w * - 







V ^ 












*\<? 
J-%, 



^%7&c&^^V 




FRANCES E. TOWNSLEY. 



A PILGRIM MAID 



THE SELF-TOLD STORY 

OF 

FRANCES E. TOWNSLEY 




L. H. HIGLEY, PUBLISHER, 

BUTLER, INDIANA. 
1908. 



. Tb3 ft 3 




Zl-M/HS 



DEDICATION 

To the children in homes were I am never counted 
a childless woman, I dedicate this book. 

F. E. T. 



5— 

£ 

^5 



INTRODUCTION 

This book is not so much an autobiography as a 
biographical romance. It posesses the virtue of being 
more than a record of a life. It is a story of an every 
day life woven into the career of an exceptional woman 
who has wrought well her work in the highest sphere 
of human effort. 

Many quaint incidents in connection with the de- 
nominational history of this generation are set with 
crispness and originality that give freshness and tonic 
to the story. 

The recital is a fascinating one and is set with 
peculiar charm in a practical, rounded, wholesome 
ministry of flesh and blood, and will secure the recog- 
nition to which the writers abilities and Christian 
devotion entitle her. 

R. N. VAN DOREN, D. D., Editor The Standard, 

Chicago, Illinois. 



FOREWORD 

San Jose, California, August, 1907. 

Sitting under the fragrant pines on the heights 
overlooking Little Traverse Bay near Bay View As- 
sembly Grounds, I first listened to a part of the life 
story of Rev. Frances E. Townsley. It stirred my soul 
as perhaps no other life story has ever done. 

Miss Townsley's life has been as fragrant of good 
as the breeze wafted from sweet balsam and pines, 
and as deep has been its pathos of sorrow as the un- 
sounded depths of lake or sea. 

I rejoice that her clear and trenchant pen has 
given her self-told history to the world, and that it 
will uplift every soul that reads it I know, since her 
personal touch on my life has done so much for me. 

HELEN M. STODDARD, 
Sec'y Board Regents, College of Industrial Arts, Texas. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Frances E. Townsley - - Frontice Piece 

Frances E. Townsley at 20 - - Page 124 

When I Was Ordained - 277 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

1. The Long Ago - 9 

2. How I Came To Be I - - - 17 

3. Precious Memories 27 

4. The Widow and the Fatherless - 35 

5. Struggles for Bread 38 

6. My Saint - - - 44 
7 To Dear Old Dirty, Blessed Chicago - 50 

8. A New Home - - - 62 

9. A Brave Boy in Blue 65 

10. Strange Neighbors - - 72 

11. Sought and Found 83 

12. A Turning Point - - - ^90 

13. College Days - 93 

14. She Who Never Rested, Rests - - 105 

15. Motherless - 109 

16. I Became a Tither - - - 114 

17. A Love Story with a Moral - - 119 

18. The Michigan Ague - - 128 

19. A Call— Its Answer 135 

20. My First Sermon - - - 141 

21. Hindered— Helped 147 

22. Waiting and Studying Near Mother's Grave, 152 

23. By Baptism - - - 160 

24. From Teaching to Preaching - 170 

25. O'er Hill and Dale - - - 178 

26. Through Vermont Snow Drifts - 193 

27. Licensed to Preach - - - 205 



CHAPTER PAGE 

28. All Things to All Men - - 213 

29. Lonely Hours - - - - 221 

30. Not Alone Any More - - 225 

31. Not So Crazy, After All - - - 230 

32. My Aunt Submit - - 238 

33. Dying, But I Get Well - - - 242 

34. With Frank at Glory's Gateway - 253 

35. Impressions of the West - - - 261 

36. Woman's Ordination — How and Why, 276 

37. With One Who Did Not Did 294 

38. A Word to a Girl - - - 298 

39. A Penitential Psalm - - - 300 

40. In Devious Paths - - - 304 

41. Prayer - - - - 315 

42. A Child in the Midst - - - 318 

43. Prohibition Prohibiting - 323 

44. A Peep at a Letter Book - - 330 

45. My Cross 341 

46. Where Am I Now - 345 



A Pilgrim Maid 

CHAPTER I. 
The Long Ago. 

' 'My lost, my own and I — 

Shall have so much to see together by and by 
1 am quite sure we will be very glad 

That for a little while we were so sad," 

I have just found it — the beginning of the story I 
have often been asked to write. Here is my starting 
point, this tiny bead bag of divers colors, carefully 
wrought, and as I dig with no longer childish fingers 
into its one little pocket where I once kept "my very 
own pennies ," I find a broken fragment of a baby's 
coral neck-lace. Don't offer me a string of pearls to- 
day. Diamonds could not purchase this. Rubies 
could not compare with it. For this little trinket 
brings most holy memories of a mother's devotion, a 
father's protection, a brother's playfulness and all 
childhood's unreturning joys. As I look upon it there 
pass before me those of long ago; and if I am to tell 
you my story, I must tell you of those without whom 
I should never have been — just I. 

Dear little coral beads. Let me place this fragment 
of a neck-lace — no, you won't go around my neck, but 
against my cheek where salt tears will suggest your 

9 



A PILGRIM MAID 

own lost home on the coral reefs, where so slowly you 
were builded in your long ago, for to each of us is al- 
lotted his portion as a builder for those who shall come 
after. So this tiny bag and baby necklace bring to me 
MY FIRST MEMORIES. 

These are of a very tall, well-formed man, with 
curly, brown hair and beard, who was wont to carry 
my little brother, Frank, and my own fidgety little 
person on his broad shoulders. 0, those far away 
mornings! Then the nurse-maid relinquished her 
charge to father who took us out into the grapery be- 
fore breakfast, after which joyous morning meal he 
went down the street to business waving goodbyes to 
three children, nine, four and two years of age and the 
little woman who for twenty years rested peacefully 
in his love. 

Of that mother there are no first memories. She 
was always there. She always will be! my precious, 
blessed, heroic little mother, my saint! 

My father, Gad Townsley, was from the hills of 
Franklin County, Massachusetts. His parents, Dan 
and Rachel (Bullard) Townsley, were the father and 
mother of a good sized family bearing such solid old 
Bible names as Sarah, Persis, Bathsheba, Dan, Abner, 
Enoch and the no less worthy name of Nuel, the uncle 
who was, with uncle Enoch, my great and special 
comforter in many an hour of heart-ache and childish 
disappointment. 

Grandfather, Dan Townsley, was born 1763. He 
enlisted against King George in 1780, and at seventeen 
years of age was fighting the British and served till 
the close of the Revolutionary War. His brothers, 

10 



THE LONG AGO 

Adam and Gad were at Lexington, 1775, 

" Where once the embattled farmers stood, 
And fired the shot heard round the world.' ' 

Mother was the daughter of Captain Joseph Davis 
of Billerica, Massachusetts, and Eleanor Cobb, the 
daughter of General David Cobb, of Maine. Captain 
Davis probably found this fragile little wife in some 
coast-cruise, for mother's tiny note book asserts that 
her own birth place was Goldsborough, Maine, but 
that her mother "died at Billerica, Massachusetts, 
1819, being twenty-three years of age." 

Eleanor Cobb was too frail a lily to long bloom 
in the atmosphere of so stern, arbitrary and domi- 
neering a nature as that of Captain Davis, who might 
dominate the actions of a crew of men on shipboard 
more imperiously than those of so delicate a mortal as 
his young wife, who, (her contemporaries have re- 
corded) "was the embodiment of delicacy, refinement 
and purity." 

Shall I fill these pages with the virtues and relate 
none of the failings of those who were before me? No. 

As a child, mother developed conscientiousness to 
a remarkable degree. Doubtless having read the 
"woe" pronounced on him who should put the bottle 
to his neighbor's lips, and often commanded in days 
when everybody took something, to carry her father's 
rumjug to the neighboring village for refilling, or take 
a whipping, — it must have required a martyr's courage 
to face, as often she did, the irate Captain her father, 
and refuse "because it seemed a sin" to her, to carry 
his jug to the store and bring it back filled with what 
brought misery to the home; but she took the alterna- 

11 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tive, the heavy chastisings her principles cost her, and 
showed me the marks of her loyalty years after. 

My mother's grandfather was General David Cobb 
whom Massachusetts has tried to claim because he fig- 
ured at one time so largely in the history of Taunton, 
but removing to Goldsborough, Maine, he became so 
identified with the interests of that state that I 
find in Maine's historic records in the Newberry Li- 
brary, Chicago, opposite General Cobb's picture, — that 
of a strong face and noble head, — these words. "For 
more than a quarter of a century from 1796, General 
Cobb was the most conspicuous and influential citizen 
of Maine. He was judge, a senator, a general in the 
Continental Army, serving all through the Revolu- 
tionary War, being engaged in many of its most im- 
portant battles with great credit. He was one of the 
founders of Cincinnati, a society established by and 
consisting of the officers of the Revolution, Washington 
being its president and General Cobb, for a long time 
its vice-president." The latter is spoken of as a man 
of broad sympathies, and great hospitality, "entertain- 
ing Washington, General Knox, Alexander Hamilton, 
and other noted men of his time, as well as scores of 
those of less renown under his roof." His wife, Eleanor 
Bradish, was the daughter of the proprietor of the 
Bradish Tavern so famous in the early history of 
Maine. 

If there are belligerent traits in my character, re- 
member the Townsley lads who fought the British at 
Lexington, and on the other side of the house, the 
record of General David Cobb, and acknowledge that 
I came of genuine fighting stock; and that there is 

12 






THE LONG AGO 

much for loyal, freedom-loving souls to fight today, 
as these pages may declare. 

One of my very few heir-looms, now the text of my 
lecture entitled "What an Ancient Sampler says to a 
Modern Woman," is a fine bit of old canvass adorned 
with embroidered roses, now somewhat faded, and al- 
phabetical characters in every sort of lettering, said 
sampler containing in the lower right hand corner, the 
curiously wrought inscription, 

" Eleanor Cobb marked this sampler in the year of 
our Lord 1804, aged ten years." In the center of this 
sampler is inscribed in black lettering (imagine a ten 
years old youngster of today embroidering such black 
historic facts so patiently!) the lines which I, one hun- 
dred and two years later so often quote: 

"Plain as this canvass was, so plain we find 
Unlettered, unadorned the female mind. 
No fine ideas fill the vacant soul, 
No graceful coloring animates the whole; 
With close precision carefully inwrought, 
Fair education paints the pleasing thought, 
Inserts the curious lines on proper ground, 
Completes the work and scatters roses round." 
A row of dove-cots and one of trees worked around 
the edge of this heir-loom and its entire general ap- 
pearance declare but too surely that little Eleanor 
Cobb lived in the days of the Dame School, the only 
opportunity previous to the 19th century, afforded 
American girls for schooling. 

The Dame was a woman usually past middle life, 
who taught the alphabet, the church catechism, and 
"how to make your manners" but especially embroid- 

13 



A PILGRIM MAID 

enng on canvass, and sometimes plain sewing. Often 
the Dame knew little of literature besides the English 
alphabet; and "how to drop a courtesy" was often the 
extent of her teaching on manners. Chas. Francis 
Adams says that during the first one hundred and fif- 
ty years of our colonial history the subject of what 
was once called " female education" was one of utter 
indifference. Abigail Adams, in one of her now high- 
ly historical letters, says of her time, "It is almost the 
custom to ridicule female learning." In Northamp- 
ton, Massachusetts, now the seat of Smith College for 
women, as late as 1788 the Village Fathers voted "not 
to be at the expense of schooling girls." 

In 1792 the selectmen of Newburyport, Massachu- 
setts, voted to let the girls attend school in the sum- 
mer months, "when the boys had diminished in num- 
bers" and ordered, (I copy from old records) "that 
the master shall receive these girls for instruction in 
reading and grammar one and one half hours after the 
boys are dismissed in the afternoons." 

In 1803 progressive Newburyport voted to open 
four girls' schools, THE FIRST ON RECORD, to be 
kept open six months in the year. But mark the hours 
"Only from six to eight o'clock in the morning and on 
Thursday afternoons, so as not to interfere with the 
lessons and studies of the boys." 

A suggestive incident occurred in Hatfield from 
whence came later, the woman founder of Smith Col- 
lege for women, when a father of six daughters but no 
sons, asked in town meeting that those daughters be 
permitted to attend the public schools, as he was a 
heavy school-tax-payer. A committee-man rose ve- 

14 



THE LONG AGO 

hemently to quench the awful suggestion, saying with 
forceful though inelegant language "What! Schools 
for she's in Hatfield? NEVER!" and his word then 
prevailed. 

In 1789 Boston voted to establish three reading and 
writing schools open all the year round for boys, from 
April to October for girls. The first free schools for 
the boys' sisters in the United States. 

In 1828 Rhode Island opened wide the gateway of 
free education for girls and during the first quarter of the 
19th century girls were permitted to attend the public 
schools the year round in New England. Other states 
fell into line later. Newburyport, the third time, 
comes up for honor in 1842, opening her High Schools 
to girls. In 1845 Salem turned her attention from 
persecuting witches and Quakers, to open her High 
Schools to her daughters; but cultivated, historic Bos- 
ton, waited until 1852, two hundred years after she 
had opened her Latin school for boys, and two hun- 
dred years after Harvard was founded for young men, 
before she gave High School privileges to girls. 

"Swing outward ye gates of the future! 
Swing inward ye doors of the past! 

A giant is rousing from slumber, 
The people are waking at last!" 

By the middle of the 19th century High Schools 
were open to girls all over New England, but collegi- 
ate education came harder. Oberlin, Ohio, in 1833 
became the pioneer in this college movement, and 
Holyoke, Massachusetts, calling itself a female college, 
made immortal the precious name of its founder, Mary 
Lyon, in 1836. I am so glad it is known today as a 

15 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Woman's College. For the blessed term, woman, 
distinguishes our sex in the human family, from faith- 
ful tabby-cats, mild-eyed, cud-chewing cows, and the 
never-to-be-ignored, industrious, utilitarian hen, all 
females but not women. 

It was when barely nine years old that my mother 
was taken from her father and a stern but excellent 
second mother, by her father's sisters to their pleas- 
ant, and for those days, well-to-do homes in Belfast, 
Bangor, Winthrop, Hallowell and Calais, Maine, for 
tenderer care, broader culture, and more peaceful sur- 
roundings than the stern captain's home offered her, 
but her filial thought ever followed him, and loving 
letters were often written him expressing the assur- 
ance of her prayers that he might know the light of 
the divine favor in surrendering his powerful, selfish 
and arbitrary will to the one only Potentate and 
Lord. She carried many sad memories of her few 
short years in her father's abode, and I, too have suf- 
fered in that the laws of heredity are as inexorable as 
any others linked fast to the Eternal Throne; and a 
fiery disposition, a strong selfish will, and a domineer- 
ing spirit are my heritage from him whom we here 
leave with his wisest and kindest Judge. 

Mother spent some time with her aunts in Maine 
making herself generally useful and growing into a 
graceful, bright-eyed, affectionate young woman. 



16 



CHAPTER II. 
How I Came to be I 

"What if those many years ago, 

Those close -shut lips had answered no 

When forth the tremulous question came 

That cost the maiden her Norman name ; 

Should I be I? or, would it be 

Nine -tenths another to one -tenth me?" 

I find in mother's little leather note book, this 
item: "December 20th, 1828, I leave home again to 
pass the winter in Boston with my father's sister, Mrs. 
Jacob Sleeper/' who was the wife of Honorable Jacob 
Sleeper, the well known Methodist layman of Boston 
for whom, as its donor, Sleeper Hall of Boston Univer- 
sity is named. 

From there mother went to Winthrop, Maine, to an- 
other sister of her father, Mrs. Catherine Davis Lee, and 
there, "November 6th, 1831," says the tiny note book, 
"made a public profession of religion uniting with the 
Congregational church under the pastoral care of Rev. 
David Thurston." To us of a later time, some little 
circumstances attendant upon this, to her most sacred 
hour, may be of interest. At that early period of Con- 
gregational church history in Maine, no woman was ex- 
pected to "give her own experience" before the church 
when asking for admission. But it might be presented 

17 



A PILGRIM MAID 

by a male relative for her, if properly written out. 

So mother, carefully studying the church's "Ar- 
ticles of Faith" began the writing of what I doubt not 
was an interesting document. But one day she went 
to her aunt Lee saying tearfully, "I am so wicked, I 
can't ask for admission to the church." The aston- 
ished aunt demanded at once the reason of such a con- 
fession, and the little maiden burst forth with sobs, 
"It isn't what I've done or havn't done Aunt Cath- 
erine, but its what I cannot believe! At any rate I 
can't find it proven in the Bible." "What is that, 
child?" cried aunt Lee. "O" sobbed the timid Char- 
lotte, "O — I know it's because I'm so very wicked! 
All the rest of you find it, but though I find all the 
other articles proven quite easily I can't — O, I am so 
sorry — and Aunt Lee what will Deacon Lee think of 
me — for — being so wicked? — but I can't find the 
sprinkling of infant children taught in the Bible, and 
I've been studying it to find it, day and night for 
weeks." 

"Is that why you've delayed so long?" queried 
her staunch auntie. "I'll turn you over to your uncle 
Lee this evening and he'll make it clear as daylight 
to you." 

With growing dread of the evening hour, mother 
awaited uncle Lee's home coming. Then the heresy 
of the little lady having been duly set forth by his 
wife, Deacon Lee sought to explain to trembling Char- 
lotte, the "Abrahamic Covenant." 

"But" said Charlotte, "that circumcision you talk 
of was only for boys, and Vm — a — girl" 

Today we all know the arguments uncle Lee set 
18 



HOW I CAME TO BE I 

forth, the story of the baptism of the Phillippian jail- 
or's household, and all the rest, but so persistent was 
his wife's incorrigible neice and her earnest tearful de- 
mand that the Bible must not have read into it what 
God had not put there, that finally the good deacon 
said he would bring the matter before the pastor and 
deacons for decision, but "Charlotte must join the 
church and finish, on all other points, her statement 
as to Christian belief and experience. " This she did, 
and the Board was so well pleased with the paper, that 
they received her, coming in on protest against infant 
baptism, and voted that she (not her uncle) should 
read before the church her own experience and her 
protest. She was received, little dreaming that her 
daughter would so closely follow her steps forty years 
later. November 6th, 1831, her aunt handed her a 
booklet plainly bound, which my mother handed to me 
the day I joined a church for the first time, called 
PIOUS RESOLUTIONS. 

Shades of Rev. David Thurston and Deacon Lee! 
I know no one under one hundred years of age who 
could be induced to carefully read its dry-as-dust 
words today, though mother kept it with her Bible for 
daily study, and I also read from it for many months 
after it was handed me. But can our young peo- 
ple of today realize a tenth that has been done for 
them in the preparation of helpful, readable, Christian 
literature? If they would only try to imbibe the 
precious truths so daintily and agreeably put within 
their reach on every hand! Magazines, weeklies, libra- 
ries, leaflets and booklets! How I should like to set my 
mother's youth in this glad day and give her a chance. 

19 



A PILGRIM MAID 

In the old home at Billerica she had studied by 
moonlight because she was not allowed a candle to 
light her to bed; her place at the head of the spelling 
class in the country school was retained for a long 
time through sheer grit, perseverance and Christian 
endeavor, and as I recall some of her stories of self- 
denial and conscientious struggles to know and to do 
the right thing, I fear the term "endeavor" and even 
the "Christian" appellations are too often today, a 
misnomer. 

My father a young merchant from a Massachusetts 
village, on visiting one of Charlotte C. Davis' Maine 
relatives heard so much in favor of the young lady now 
in Calais, that he asked a few questions about her. 

One of her Maine aunties intrusted to him one 
day, a package for her, to be delivered at Dea. Lee's 
door in Calais on his going to that place. As he lifted 
the old-fashioned brass door-knocker, my little mother- 
to-be (she was tiny and not yet seventeen) was dust- 
ing the hall and opened the front door. As she looked 
up into the face of the man six feet and four inches in 
height and said, "Good morning" cheerily, he took her 
hand and said, "Charlotte Clark Davis, how do you do 
today?" And thus they met. Am I glad? Well, I can 
say that it came to mean pretty much everything to 
me that they did meet. And sitting here in what was 
then an unknown part of the world, with hair turning 
grey, I devoutly thank God that they met. 

I really would rather they thus had met than any 
other couple I ever knew. No others could have given 
me cleaner morals, higher hopes, or a holier faith. 
There's so much in O. W. Holmes' lines "to Dorathy 

20 



HOW I CAME TO BE I 

Q's picture, — a family portrait." 

"Soft is the breath of a maiden's yes, 

Not the light gossamer stirs with less, 
But not a cable that holds so fast, 

Thro' all battles of wave and blast, 
And never an echo of speech or song; 

That lives in the babbling air so long! 

Lady and Lover! How faint and far 
Your images hover! — and here we are 

Solid and stirring in flesh and bone, 
My far away ancestors, all your own, — 

A goodly record for time to show 
Of a syllable spoken so long ago! 

Shall I bless you, Dorothy, or forgive 

For the tender whisper that bade me live?" 

1 recall the tender, modest grace with which my 
mother used to rehearse to me in my childhood, the 
story of her lonely life in other people's homes, before 
my father came to meet her; the restful peace that 
possessed her when she felt herself abiding in his man- 
ly love; the first year of marriage, and boarding; the 
desire for their own home-nest; the entering into that; 
the coming, after three years, of the first baby who 
stayed so short a time, and for whom I, years later, 
was named, Frances Eleanor; the pure and helpful 
consecration of my mother to the holy cause then 
known as "Moral Reform," the forerunner of the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union. Its organ 
was "The Advocate and Family Guardian," when my 
little bride-mother, from a sense of duty, accepted the 
presidency of the Moral Reform Association of their 
village, Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, where father 

21 



A PILGRIM MAID 

conducted what now would be called a department 
store, and was for a time Post Master and always a 
leader in municipal affairs. 

He was a strong Abolitionist. Many a runaway 
from southern slavery was aided by his cool courage 
and efficient hands, to the New England branch of the 
Underground Railway, and many a meal my mother 
prepared at night for women and children 
"going on to Canady, 
Whar' collud men is free." 

No Arabian Nights could have thrilled my romance- 
loving soul as did these tales of knight-errantry on the 
part of the young, rising business man whom all men 
honored, and if they differed with him as to his poli- 
tics, men found it prudent to keep close friends with 
the man who never failed to prove a helper to widow, 
orphan, fugitive, or wanderer, and for this I bless him 
over and over again. 

I have seen the articles mother's girlish fingers pen- 
ned for The Advocate and Family Guardian, I have 
listened to the facinating accounts of her first baking, 
her culinary blunders, her triumphs which in later years 
made her name a synonym for cooking skill. The 
tale of the first tears she shed after marriage was a 
funny story to my eager ears. Having come from 
Boston to a country village, her garments were mod- 
ern and stylish enough to cause her husband's plainer 
relatives to make some silly remarks which soon 
reached her ears. One afternoon when several young 
married people had been invited to a country home 
to tea, mother fearing that even the simple white 
lawn she had selected to wear would prove obnoxious 

22 



HOW I CAME TO BE I 

to the plainer folk who had invited my father and her- 
self among others, and regretting that whatever she 
put on made her seem "so stylish/' she flung herself 
on her bed in a paroxysm of perplexity and griet re- 
calling a village gossip's recently expressed "fear that 
Charlotte would certainly ruin Gad." At this inop- 
portune moment the young husband drove up to take 
her to the tea party, and at once demanded the cause 
of her distress. "I can't tell you" she sobbed, "I nev- 
er meant you should see me cry." "I never did be- 
fore," he answered. "But you must explain at once, 
and if I'm at fault, I'll atone and we'll make up." 
After urgings that became commands, she finally ex- 
plained to the astonished bridegroom that she had 
nothing suitable to wear. Astounded at the declara- 
tion, he who had been only proud of her appearance 
in public and at home, heard the sobbed-out confes- 
sion that "Aunt 'Cindy B was afraid she was going 

to ruin her husband by her extravagant dress." I can 
almost see my father's flashing eyes and hear him say 
"Fools! I'll teach them to meddle with your affairs!" 
as, going to the wardrobe he brought forth an elabor- 
ate silk gown trimmed with dainty lace and cried, 
"Put that on! If it isn't nice enough, try your wed- 
ding dress! Pins and pincers couldn't exceed the tor- 
ture this low talk has given you!" This was true; 
but he finally consented that Charlotte should wear 
her simpler white lawn, which caused their hostess to 
explain "Laws! Ain't she the sweetest thing that ever 
drew breath! Gad, you must be drefful proud of that 
tiny little creetur!" 

During the first ten years of their married life my 
23 



A PILGRIM MAID 

father was frequently asked to give store jobs, office 
work, board and moral discipline thrown in, to wild lads 
needing careful oversight. Often, not always, was the 
applicant a relative whose mother would appeal in 
terms like these: "Gad, can't you take my Samuel 
into your store? I've talked to him and licked him 
till I've gin up in sheer despair of ever makin' any- 
thing out of him. But if you could train him and teach 
him figgers, and Charlotte would feed him, I'd have 
a little hope of him." And very often Gad trained 
and taught and Charlotte fed a fatherless lad or a 
street waif for months, who sometimes proved grate- 
ful and sometimes — didn't. 

I was holding a meeting in Vermont one evening in 
the early seventies when a man of fine appearance, 
with white hair and a gold headed cane, and dignity to 
match, said to me "Can it be possible that you are 
Gad Townsley's daughter?" I assured him I was, 
when he seized my hand and said "Your father was a 
noble man, Miss Townsley! he took me when a boy in- 
to his office and made a man of me!" 

During these eight years and eight months resi- 
dence at Shelburne Falls, I find in mother's note book 
proof that five different young people found a home with 
my parents during these first years of their life togeth- 
er, one, her stepsister, Clara, a beautiful girl who died 
at their home of typhus fever in 1840. 

It was at Shelburne Falls that my father, a man of 
few words, extreme reserve as to his personal relations 
to his God, reticent almost to a fault, submitted to the 
ordinance of baptism in the Deerfield River, never 
talking with even his wife about it, previously, and 

24 



HOW I CAME TO BE I 

united with the Baptist Church of the village. 

A few years ago in answer to my request, Rev. Geo 
Benton, of the Big Horn Basin, Wyoming, in old age, 
wrote me these words, in memory of my mother, at 
this period of her life: "Your mother came to my 
father's house one lovely morning and inquired for 
the blackberry boy and I was called. She made 
known her errand and desired to be shown the berry 
patch. I told her it was more than a mile up the 
hills, and she would tire. On her assurance to the 
contrary we started. Some forty rods brought us to a 
brook. When we had crossed the brook and climbed 
the hill and were on the up-grade beyond, she had 
gained on me ten or fifteen rods. Suddenly she wheel- 
ed and with an indescribably winsome laugh, and a 
flash from her beautiful eyes, boasted of her superior 
speed. "Don't you see, I've beat you, walking?" she 
cried. I can't describe her features to you. What 
impressed me most was her great, noble, joyous hope- 
fulness. She awoke in my boyish heart a feeling that 
has never ceased to be, and I look for her soulfulness 
in vain in others. Her fresh and sunlit face I can 
never forget. I was too young to know of love, but 
if ever a goddess captivated a barefooted boy she did 
me; and she became to me the most glorious of mor- 
tal beings. I never in all my life have known one who 
seemed to have so little to do with mortality. No 
heart of mere mortal could possibly stand the intense 
throbs of such mighty, benevolent joy, and love, and 
in later years, such intense anguish, and not break. 
To me she was ever a noble, grand, angelic creature." 
Are these words indicative of an old man's second 

25 



A PILGRIM MAID 

childhood? Maybe so, but he was a child of God, 
and tenderly I cherish this once bare-foot lad's mem- 
ories of my mother's happy years. 



26 



CHAPTER III. 
Precious Memories 

' 'Lif e is not an idle ore 
But iron dug from central gloom ; 

And heated hot in burning years 
And dipped in hissing baths of tears 

And battered with the shocks of doom." 

Thrown for the first time among Baptist people, it 
was but natural that one of my mother's thoughtful 
and conscientious spirit, should examine for herself 
the reasons for the existence of Baptists, then those 
"heretics of the baser sort." As I recall how, about 
her heavy household duties long after, she taught me 
the fundamentals of the Baptist faith, and the broad- 
est Catholic spirit of love for those differing, and im- 
pressed upon me the scripturalness of Baptist views, 
and the truly democratic policy of their position, I 
rise up today to bless her for her forethought and 
faithfulness. 

Not the position taken in my present pastor's arti- 
cle in the Chicago Standard of January 19th, 1907, is 
more logical, historical or scriptural than the lessons 
mother taught me in the long ago 5Q's, while I wiped 
dishes and pounded spice at her side. "Fundament- 
als," as Pastor Harnly says, "do not change/' and 
I'm not only a stronger Baptist but a better patriot 

27 



A PILGRIM MAID 

for the denominational lessons mother gave me when 
their meaning I was then too young to grasp. 

It must have been a memorable day in her history 
when, turning her back on traditions and friends of 
her girlhood's church home, mother espoused the cause 
then so unpopular and was "buried with Christ in 
baptism," in the Deerfield River at Shelburne Falls, 
the sacred scene of so many similar burials, for Shel- 
burne Falls Baptist Academy was then a useful and 
crowded institution, from whose doors passed out many 
pastors and missionaries-to-be, government officers, 
war correspondents and literary leaders. 

Later, two years were spent in the tiny village of 
Colerain, near Shelburne Falls, where my brother Wil- 
liam was born, April 6th, 1845. He was named for 
mother's brother, William L. Davis, who was a gifted 
lad, but far from well, and made his home with my 
parents most of the time, being obliged to leave col- 
lege, (Williams) for recuperation more than once. 
Between him and my mother a peculiarly strong and 
tender affection prevailed from infancy. She has told 
me of his running frantically after the stage-coach 
which bore her from him on her first leaving her child- 
hood home; of his clinging embraces, as he pressed in- 
to her hand his choicest treasure, a sixpence, his dear- 
est keepsake of farewell, which she kept through life; 
of the later confidences of his youth, his illnesses when 
she was "so thankful to have a home in which to 
nurse him," and her joy and his happiness when on 
Aug. 8th, 1844, he was married to Harriet Griswold, 
of Buckland, Mass. Through all the coming years 
"Uncle William" stood faithfully and tenderly by his 

28 



PRECIOUS MEMORIES 

sister Charlotte, and we children looked for his visits 
with yearning love and an increasing reverence for his 
noble traits. 

The removal to Albany, N. Y., occurred May 15th, 
1845. There, as a commission merchant, father found 
a larger business, and when the Board of Trade was 
an organization of mutual helpfulness for business 
men, and not, as in many cities at this time, the re- 
sort of gamblers, and a den of theives, my father was 
president of the Albany Board of Trade. 

Dear brother Willie! I was born Sept. 13, 1849, 
five years after he came. I wonder his mischievous 
propensities did not punch my eyes out to see what 
they were made of or pull the hair all out of my 
head, to see what made it curl. Active, busy, affec- 
tionate, ambitious, the child was such a care, as with 
the new baby, and a distant child cousin who needed 
a home and watchful discipline, were "enough to drive 
an ordinary woman raving crazy/' to use the words of 
my Aunt Rachel Townsley, who came at intervals to 
stay with mother and help her care for Frances. A very 
efficient teacher of excellent repute, Aunt Rachel took 
me into her heart, but for fun loving Willie she had 
little use. When he ran off to play with some colored 
boys, in his stocking feet one freezing day, and froze 
his feet and his ears, it seemed folly to her that moth- 
er should tenderly thaw out his feet and ears, and pay 
the black boy who brought him home twenty-five 
cents and a big piece of cake for his trouble. "For 
that darkey, the cake was enough, and for Willie a 
good whipping was not enough," she protested. And 
burying her face in my curls declared that I was "too 

29 



A PILGRIM MAID 

nice a child to run away and distress my mamma," 
the falsity of which I fully proved just as soon as I 
could run or walk any distance alone, and the roam- 
ing tendency has never left me, witness my thousands 
of miles traveled today, Aunt Rachel to the contrary, 
who doubtless thought I should be always content to 
sit in a corner quietly, if only I had a book to read! 

A few scenes in the short period spent in Albany, 
may serve as examples of helpfulness set before us 
little watchful children. Down in the basement kitchen 
on stormy winter mornings, black Phil sits, while my 
dainty mother fries pancakes for his breakfast. Phil 
shovels our snow covered sidewalks, empties ashes and 
brings in coal. Mother learns that he is homeless, 
sleeps in a shed, and has "no teeth for to eat de hoe- 
cake" or any other hard food substance. Her Irish 
cook has her people's aversion to the colored race. It 
is the same Biddy whom mother has taken fresh from 
Ireland, bare-footed and bare-headed, and nearly bare- 
backed, and has taught order, cleanliness and Amer- 
ican cookery. It is the same Biddy who burst into 
the parlor filled with stylish callers one afternoon, cry- 
ing with genuine astonishment on her face, "Mrs. 
Townsley! Plaze mum, will yez be after telling me 
what upon airth does a nagur want of a parasol?" 
Yes, it is Biddy who "will not bake pancakes for any 
ould nagur, be he pious as Saint Anthony — niver, 
mum!" So she is sent upstairs to dust while mother 
takes the cake-shovel and serves grateful Phil his 
breakfasts a certain number of days each month of 
the winter. 

Again I see her fitting the shivering form of a 
30 



PRECIOUS MEMORIES 

little Dutch beggar-girl with a new quilted petticoat, 
and afterward she leads me by the hand to the tene- 
ment where the sick family of the beggar are cared for 
with food, clothing, medicine and encouragement. 

It is the 4th of July. We have been down the 
street to see the parade. It is a very hot sultry day. 
Returning we sit down to rest in a large front room at 
home looking out on a park. My father is having a 
needed holiday. As he looks across the street he sees 
a drunken man stagger into the park and fall upon 
the ground in a stupor, with his bloated face up-turned 
to the brazen, pitiless sky. "He'll be sunstruck!" 
says mother. Father takes a cushion from an easy 
chair, a clean silk handkerchief from his pocket, and a 
large umbrella from the hall way, slips across the 
street, drags the besotted form to the shade of a tree, 
spreads the handkerchief over the poor man's eyes, 
raises and makes fast the umbrella between the stupid 
wretch and the fierce sun, and returns home. For 
hours the drunkard sleeps, then rises with a look of 
surprise, closes the umbrella, folds and leaves the 
handkerchief with the cushion, and shambles off. 
Might not the Spirit of Divine Love have impressed 
some truths upon his heart because of the ministry of 
one whom he knew not? Let us so hope! I am glad 
I saw the kindly act, and learned a lesson on the 
proper observance of our Nation's Holiday. 

So the first five years of my life pass. My father 
is the idol of my love. "To do what my papa does" 
is my highest ambition. So mother finds me stamping 
the floor as heavily as my light weight will permit, or 
buried under a tall silk hat, or putting my baby hands 

31 



A PILGRIM MAID 

in my cloak pockets "to be like my papa!" 

Pockets! The word reminds me of my first great 
grief. I do not see why if Willie has pockets I may 
not have at least one in my dress. So after much en- 
treaty my mother sews a pocket into my little dress 
skirt. Prouder mortal never breathed the vital air! 
To be a good girl now, to help care for baby brother, 
Frank, to learn to sew (which I've always disliked) 
are easy tasks. Fve "dot a pottitt!" Ask not what 
was in it. It would take less time to tell what was 
not. Everything Willie put in his pocket must be du- 
plicated in mine. Knife, marbles, spools, buttons, 
toys, and trinkets galore, until my patient mother 
threatens to sew up the cherished receptacle. I hardly 
fear she will do so. Isn't that my dearest treasure? 
Doesn't papa fill his? Of course my busy mother has 
to sew my pocket in every single evening, for torn out 
it is daily. At length one sad morning breaks over 
earth, when after repeated warnings and sewings-in, 
my mother has carried her warnings into effect, and 
sewed that precious pocket up. Did I call her harsh? 
I have learned since what that word may mean. Did 
I shed bitter tears? Yes, verily, for after a life time of 
struggle and disappointment and many tears, 1 still 
recall that hour as one of childhood's saddest and 
sorest. 

One day in eary July, 1854, brother Willie bursts 
into the house and finds father shaving before his 
chamber mirror. Rushing up to him, impelled by what 
influence we knew not, the boy, half out of breath, 
cries out, "Pa! say, what in the world should we do if 
you should die?" My father quietly lays by his razor, 

32 



PRECIOUS MEMORIES 

turns to the eager lad, and answers: "My boy, if your 
father should die, I want you always to remember 
this: I leave to your care, in your charge, your moth- 
er and your little sister and baby brother. Do you 
understand, Willie, and will you be sure to remember? 
"Yes sir, I will!" and the lad runs off to play. 



33 



CHAPTER IV. 
The Widow and the Fatherless 

1 'The dear ones left behind? 

O foolish one and blind ! 
A day — and you will meet, 

A night—and you will greet.' ' 

Albany is in mourning. The dread cholera has 
entered her gates and strong man and frail woman, 
blooming maiden and energetic youth are among its 
victims. Mother always delicate, gathers her brood 
about her in the home nest and tells father what he 
would better do should she fall. "Aunt Rachel, or 
Aunt Persis must come, and care for the children in 
such a case," is the decision, and father reassures 
mother, hugs us all a little closer to his manly bosom 
and goes off to business. Nobody thinks he is in dan- 
ger, — the tall, broad shouldered protector of many. 
He has hardly seen a sick day in twenty years! Eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon of July 13th a carriage stops 
before our home, and we think our Aunt Persis, ex- 
pected on a promised visit, has arrived. But two 
leading busines men of Albany alight and with the aid 
of passers-by lift my precious father from the carriage, 
and bear him up the stairs where mother waits wringing 
her hands and saying, "O, Gad! You have the Chol- 
era!" He is laid on his bed suffering so with cramps 

34 



THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS 

that his clothing is not removed. The dear old family 
Doctor comes and says, 'Til do my best, but you 
ought to have come home two hours ago, as your 
clerks bade you." Slowly the hours go by. Mother 
ministers as she only can. We little ones stand 
around — all of us — O God! so helpless, and kind Dr. 
Bay stays till nearly even-tide. Once during the day 
mother is wiping the perspiration of physical agony 
from her loved one's brow, and presses his hand to re- 
ceive a return pressure never to be forgotten. At twi- 
light the Dr. having left the room, the faithful book- 
keeper from the office leans over his employer and 
friend, but there is no answer from the lips or eyes of 
the sick man, to his tender words. 

"Mrs. Townsley, come quickly! I fear he is dy- 
ing!" brings my mother from the next room with the 
cry, "Don't tell me that! He is only faint, The Dr. 
is on the stairway!" The professional man steps 
quickly to the bedside, lays his hand on my father's 
heart, and says with his kind arm about my stricken 
mother, "He has gone!" 

One day of anguish, one hour in a death chamber — 
how it may turn the current of a life time, or color the 
warp and woof of one's human experience. 

It was a bitter thing that the Health Department 
required the burial of our dead the following day. He 
looked so natural, as if asleep. In mother's tiny note- 
book found years after, I trace these words written 
that week, "What would I give could those lips once 
more have spoken? Could I have had the last, long, 
sad farewell, if he must go? But God, my Father, and 
His too, ordered all the circumstances. But what a 

35 



A PILGRIM MAID 

day has this been to me! Will the hopes of the Gospel 
stand by me now? In the time of my greatest need 
will God sustain me? May I cast myself helpless, de- 
fenseless, frail as I am, upon Him? He has been with 
me in troubles light compared with this. Will He fail 
me now? Willie is almost mentally distracted; I must 
and will try to comfort him." 

The first thing Willie said over his father's dead 
body was: — "Don't cry, mother; I promised father to 
take care of you and the little children, and from now 
on I'll be a man, and keep my promise." 

As my father's body was laid at first in the vault, 
the city authorities soon sent word that it must be 
buried, under the existing pestilential circumstances; 
and as we owned no cemetery lot in Albany, a close 
business friend gave the precious remains a resting 
place, till mother should decide as to her future plans 
for keeping us all together. This she was determined 
to do. 

Uncle William comes at once to his smitten sister. 
Aunt Persis Townsley for whom we are looking, comes 
into the city the morning after her brother's sudden 
going away. A business man unfolds the morning 
paper and remarks to a fellow passenger on the car, 
"Terrible about Townsley's being taken off so, isn't 
it?" 

Auntie turns and tremblingly says, "Sir, I've a 
brother by that name in your city." The kind heart- 
ed man hands her the paper and as she reads the head 
lines, and falls backwards, tender, brotherly hands 
minister to her, and christian courtesy provides escort 
for her who "expected Gad Townsley to meet her at 

36 



THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS 

the station," and so she comes to us to share our bit- 
ter sorrow and help us to plan for days to come. 

To be near her brother whose home is at Shel- 
burne Falls, is mother's yearning desire. He advises 
her to leave the disease stricken city and return to her 
former home, and find a means of livelihood there. 
Her husband's business acquaintances offer her help 
and succor for the little ones in Albany, and I often 
wonder if it would not have been better for her to 
have yielded to their suggestions, and saved some 
bitter hardships for us all. But I have learned that 
if we walk by the light we have, and do make some 
honest mistakes in judgment, our Father overrules 
the errors and teaches us that, 

"Evil is only the slave of good, 
Sorrow the servant of joy; 

And the soul is mad that refuses food, 
From the meanest in God's employ." 



37 



CHAPTER V. 
Struggles for Bread 

* 'No more to hear, no more to see ! 

O, that an echo might wake 
And waft one note of thy psalm to me. 

Ere my heart strings break. 7 ' 

So to her former home mother returns with 
Naomi's words written on her brow. "Call me not as 
in other days. Call me Marah, for the Almighty has 
dealt very bitterly with me." 

She could do fine needle work but did not deem it 
best to earn her bread at the needle's point. The 
teachers' ranks were over crowded and that work 
would keep her away from her children too many 
hours of the day. I realize now, as I could not then, 
the intensity of her purpose, the determination of 
her soul to bring up her children as in the sight of 
God, and as her husband would expect her to. 

So being an excellent cook, she decided to open 
her home for a few boarders, and one by one they 
came to her — the first few, young men of good char- 
acter with literary and musical tastes, and kindly 
hearts. To them mother was like an older sister or a 
mother. Three of these had come, one at a time from 
Ireland and at first were homesick. But they came 
to be Americans, and soon were as interested in the 

38 



STRUGGLES FOR BREAD 

politics of this land, and as staunch supporters of the 
national government as any Yankee lad from our own 
hillsides. Those were stirring times, not long before 
the breaking out of the Civil war. The questions pro 
and con of our national crisis were discussed at our 
table, and in our sitting room, and mother's great love 
for her country and belief in the final victory of the 
truest Freedom made her an ardent leader of the dis- 
cussions which helped mold the thought of her little 
girl as surely as that of her intelligent boarders. 

The John Brown raid came. How the matter was 
talked over in our home! All sides were allowed fair 
play, but I slipped up stairs to a boarder's room more 
than once, to stand on a chair and study the features 
of the Kansas hero which our zealous boarder had 
hung upon his wall, and when later the school chil- 
dren were singing, "John Brown's body lies a molderin 7 
in the grave," I came in more loudly than the rest on 
the triumphant refrain, "But his soul goes marching 
on!" 

The boarders were very fond of me. When lec- 
tures or concerts called them out evenings, they would 
beg mother to "let Fannie go" with them, and she did 
so. To them I am indebted for course lectures on 
Hygiene, Music, History, and Literature, bringing home 
to mother the parts I could not understand, for her 
explanation, and so early learning to discriminate be- 
tween pure and helpful literature and trashy sorts not 
then quite as prevalent as today. 

I went to the public school for a time. My great 
trial, as ever after, was my extreme nearsightedness. 
Oculists since then have expressed amazement that I 

39 



A PILGRIM MAID 

was able with this "congenital nearsightedness" and 
one or two other eye deficiencies "to learn anything at 
all." I think mother feared I would never be able to 
sign my name, as penmanship was the bug-bear of my 
school days. But "to be like father" meant to be a 
good penman, so I scratched on. I dreamed of my 
father nearly every night for seven years. Mother 
had had his body removed to our village cemetery. 

Every Friday at twilight when the weather per- 
mitted, she took us to his grave, and sitting there 
taught us the principles that actuated his life, the 
story of their beautiful twenty years together, the 
meaning of purity and self-denial in the home life, the 
Saviour's lessons on the many mansions and the life 
eternal, and our dear father's devotion to the cause of 
humanity, bidding us never forget him. And so 
the fires of filial affection were kept aflame on the al- 
tars of our childish hearts, which fires, thanks to her, 
have never died out! 

I often longed for the life some of my school-mates 
were professing, but knew I had it not, but I was 
proving to myself that the best moral teachings in 
themselves are not sufficient to regenerate the soul. 
Sermons, baptismal scenes, prayers for the unconvert- 
ed all touched me. But I was still in my sins. There 
were no such helpful teachings on "How a Child may 
come to Christ," as abound today. 

Knowing I would fill my brain with some sort of 
reading matter, mother placed one volume after an- 
other of Scott's Family Bible on a kitchen chair, and 
on a little stool in front of it, I sat and read aloud to 
her one Bible biography after another and before I was 

40 



STRUGGLES FOR BREAD 

twenty years old had read the Bible through eight 
times. I could not have been more than six years 
old when I gave my first recitation in public. 

Dr. Gray, mother's pastor, afterwards Chaplain 
of the U. S. Senate, and later still, Baptist State Mis- 
sionary for California, was anxious that our monthly 
Sabbath School Concerts should be more than occasions 
for exhibiting the children's new dresses and slippers 
with childish attempts at elocution. He encouraged 
the recitation of scripture selections, and the choicest 
poetry. So among the selections mother drilled me 
to thus recite, were the Parables and the Miracles of 
Christ, portions from the prophets, the Gospels and the 
Epistles, and the following among N. P. Willis' poems; 
The Raising of Jairus' daughter, The Baptism of Je- 
sus, The Temptation of Jesus, Blind Bartimeus, The 
Widow of Nain, and many hymns of Watts, Wesley, 
Montgomery, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Sigourney and choice 
bits from Mrs. Browning. 

Over the cooking table were pinned to the wall 
clippings from the last named author, far beyond my 
depth, but they were mother's favorites; so, "He giveth 
His beloved Sleep" and "De Profundis" and parts of 
"Aurora Leigh" were burned into my memory and my 
heart. But my first recitation was the Shepherd 
Psalm. Into her drill on that my mother put her 
whole soul. 

Never can I forget her standing with shining eyes, 
her cooking utensils in one hand, while with the other 
she gave me the few necessary gestures, and also 
taught me the proper inflection and accentuation of 
those wonderful words whose inspired meaning she 

41 



A PILGRIM MAID 

was realizing day by day. 

All these lessons not only trained my memory, but 
when, in after years, temptations to atheism, and even 
grosser errors came upon me, held me like bands of 
iron from sure and awful sin. 

O, my mother! Some sweet day in the glory you 
shall have your reward. 

For seven years mother averaged five hours' sleep 
out of each twenty-four. At ten at night she sat down 
to sew, making all our garments and mending for her 
boarders. Every Sabbath she led us to the house of 
God. To Dr. E. H. Gray, a christian as surely as an 
orator, I am indebted for much that has helped my 
ministry. Never a covenant meeting did mother miss. 
They were sacred occasions to her. 

Close management became very necessary in the 
home, f op the war drew on. Goods were very high, 
board rates low, and the boarders' wages were paid 
them in paper promises, and these mother must dis- 
count at store and market. 

Frankie, her "white, wee lamb," all tenderness, 
sensitiveness and conscience was her special consola- 
tion. He and I were seldom separated. At eventide 
we rocked in one big arm chair and sang hymns to- 
gether. To market we trudged together carrying the 
market basket between us, and the dealers were kind 
to us; for father's memory was precious still at Shel- 
burne Falls, and mother was held in high esteem, and 
we children were helped for their sakes. At Christmas 
our stockings were well filled. The city Library pre- 
sented free tickets to mother for my use year by year. 
Miss Emily Lamson, highly esteemed as an instructor, 

42 



STRUGGLES FOR BREAD 

offered me free tuition in her select school of eight 
girls, when the public school methods seemed hard on 
my eyes and alarmed my mother. But as I learned 
easily, my studying was not so detrimental to my eye- 
sight as my persistent, selfish determination to read 
everything I could lay my hands upon. 



43 



CHAPTER VI. 
My Saint 

4 'Soul, buffeted by Titan stroke,— 

Adversity's tempestuous shock, — 
Stand, like gigantic primal oak, 

Head bowed to blast, roots clenching rock!" 

It was in 1858 that my precious little brother had 
the dreadful illness whose consequences followed him 
twenty-five long years. Scarlet fever and diphtheria 
seized this frail child, and after dropsy set in, few 
thought he could recover. How mother pulled 
through those summer weeks, with five boarders, and 
myself sick in the room next Franks with a milder 
form of scarlet fever, with no human aid save kind 
neighbors, God alone knows. In her little memoran- 
dum book I find, "August 20th, 1858. My darling 
Frank is very low, dropsy having set in. 

"August 22nd, Frank still lower, spasmodic hic- 
cough and other bad symptoms being added to his 
sufferings. 

"23rd, A trying operation has been resorted to. 
Can I, must 1 give up my wee lamb out of my smit- 
ten little flock? All tell me hope is vain. Night and 
day I cry, 'Jesus come down quickly ere my child 
die/ 

"25th. I stand between hope and despair. Yet 
44 



MY SAINT 

God will do what is right. 

"But can I give thee up, my darling one, so like 
thy father so loved for his dear sake! so carefully 
tended and brought thus far through thy frail little 
life, with such pains and gentleness! I will still hope 
for thee, thou frailest and youngest. 

"Sept. Frank is low and weak, but, we believe, 
coming up. What shall I render to the Lord for His 
benefits to me? Aunt Persis comes to us. Frank is 
so pleased to see her. Brother William Davis is east 
on a visit to his family and ma, from his new place of 
business, Chicago. " 

When I am credited with knowing how to pray in 
the sick room I remember the wonderful lessons long 
ago learned, as from an adjoining apartment I heard, 
day and night, the pleadings of our mother for this 
child's life, and the always added "nevertheless, not 
my will, but Thine, O God, be done." 

How a selfish act in childhood comes back to us 
in after years to torture us with the stings of remorse! 

During these days of my mother's Gethsemane 
anguish, a neighbor stepped into my sick room one 
afternoon and offered to bring me some milk toast for 
my supper. She didn't! She brought cream toast 
with the emphasis decidedly on the cream. I tossed 
feverishly all night to pay for the epicurean indulgence. 
In the morning the old physician inquired if my 
"supper could have set me back?" Mother at his 
request showed him the remnants of my evening re- 
past. He tasted it, declared it the cause of my rest- 
lessness and bade mother put it in the oven, and "dry 
it down perfectly crisp before letting Fannie have it" 

45 



A PILGRIM MAID 

for her breakfast. He was obeyed literally. When I 
tasted the dry, impalatable toast I said "I won't eat 
this." I was bidden to try. I took the plate and 
hurled it to the farther end of my sick-room! As a 
result of my self-will I had nothing but crackers and 
tea for food all day. 

Often since a woman grown, I have turned from 
crowded audiences and kindly words of appreciation, 
to cry myself to sleep in penitence for my thought- 
lessness and unkindness toward my blessed, over-bur- 
dened mother. I hope she knows! 

Where was brother Willie during these years? 
He had never lost sight of his father's dead face, or 
forgotten his charge to him. He would work, and be- 
tween school terms, drove cows, weeded gardens, saw- 
ed wood, worked in the cutlery shops; hired out to 
one farmer and another, summers, — anything to help 
mother. But he was mischievous, ambitious, bubbling 
over with energy and fun, and "The Adolescent Boy" 
as such, had not then been the subject of practical 
study and help. Underneath all his mischief was a 
current of sober purpose which expressed itself to 
mother thus — "You and the children are my father's 
charge to me. You can't afford to kill yourself to 
keep us all in school. You must educate Fan; she 
is the scholar of the family. I must work and be a 
man!" 

After reading many tales of the then distant Illi- 
nois prairies, he announced to mother his intention to 
go west, study farming as a science, rather than try 
to dig a living out of New England's rough rocks and 
stony hills. If mother would only consent! 

46 



MY SAINT 

Evil companions older than Willie were all too 
ready to take advantage of the boy's effervescent 
spirits to carry out their own schemes, and a villege 
life for a growing child is worse than city surround- 
ings, or life full of motion on a farm. 

Mother with all her sweetness was no namby 
pamby disciplinarian. When I ran away, as I gen- 
erally did, dragging my little brother after me, we 
found a meal kept warm in the oven awaiting our re- 
turn, but something far warmer generally preceded it, 
and switchings and slipperings were not only frequent 
but severe. For mother's one great aim was to bring 
us up as father would have done, whose nod even in 
our infancy meant obedience, and his word Law. 

Temptations came to her as to poor widows to- 
day. Spiritualism had strong and influential repre- 
sentatives in our neighborhood and through them 
mother received an offer of one thousand dollars a 
year, and my board and clothes, if she " would let 
Fannie, surely possessed of mediumistic tendencies 
and possibilities, go to Boston and be trained for se- 
ances/' But she fell upon her knees begging the God 
of the widow and the Father of the fatherless to give 
her the courage of her convictions, and "grace to 
starve if need be, honorably." 

Others besought her to let me study for the stage. 
To these also she turned a deaf ear, and taught us to 
trust in the God we must "trust and obey." 

At length Uncle William Davis found a farmer in 
Sublette County, 111., who had been father's friend in 
youth, and who offered to take Willie to his home and 
"teach him to farm;" and elate with a child's antici- 

47 



A PILGRIM MAID 

pat ion, the boy began his plans to go when Uncle 
William's family were to start for their new home in 
Chicago. And I turn to the little tear-stained memo- 
randum once more. 

"I am trying to get Willie's clothing ready to send 
him west. Duty surely bids it, the best good of the 
boy demands it. One prop after another fails me, and 
I must stagger on alone. I shall not realize how much 
labor he saves me till he has gone. But I must not 
keep him here with no master hand to control and 
guide him. His own welfare is dearer to me than all 
else. I must be a strong, reasonable woman now, — 
not a frail, tender hearted mother. 

"October 4th, 1858. Brother William and his 
family start early tomorrow morning, taking Willie 
with them. The needfuls are provided, his trunk is 
packed, his fare paid, my last words of counsel spoken, 
and I have knelt, for perhaps the last time beside his 
little bed which has always been so near my own, and 
in my broken, stammering way tried once more to 
present my out-going fatherless child to our only Helper 
as he goes forth into the strange, cold and wicked 
world. Surely I must trust him to the care of the 
faithful God, who in many ways, has comforted and 
aided me while struggling on since my husband's death. 
The lad is willing — wants to go, for which I am thank- 
ful; let me say goodbye cheerfully if possible although 
my heart breaks. 

"It is over. My hardest duty yet pointed out to 
be performed has been done. His last look back as he 
rode away with his pale little face still turned to me 
will haunt me evermore. To go a thousand miles 

48 



MY SAINT 

away and I to stay and pray as only widowed mothers 
may! I must do my best for the two smaller ones 
left with me. 

" October 8th. Have moved into my brother's 
empty house. Five boarders, no help. Willie a thou- 
sand miles away among strangers, my heart desolate, 
my hands full, and sad memories flitting across my 
pathway at early dawn, and busy noon, and evening's 
lonely hour/' 

Later came a letter from Willie saying the trav- 
elers had safely reached Chicago, bidding mother "not 
work too hard." And by and by comes the word that 
he is on the farm of Deacon Horatio Benton of Lee 
County, Illinois. 

Between three and four years pass, and I find in 
the little note book records of increasing bodily weak- 
ness for mother, and some strange heart trouble show- 
ing itself in severe palpitation, but ever the yearning 
cry goes up for strength to endure till the younger 
children are grown, and till she may look again upon 
the face of the far away boy. 



49 



CHAPTER VII. 
To Dear Old Dirty, Blessed Chicago. 

"Westward the star of empire takes its way. M 

Before we turned our faces westward I was led to 
write my first venture as a rhymer, and on this wise, 
several of our select school pupils were seized with a 
desire ta write poetry, and agreed if I would join the 
number to "try some verses for our next composition." 
On Friday at the appointed hour the first aspirant for 
poetic honors stepped forward with a roll of foolscap 
and read the two following lines, 
" 'Tis very nice 
To slide on ice." 
She then slid to her seat. 

The next would-be-poet took for her theme, Our 
National Holiday. There was about as much poetry 
in her nature as in a well blacked stove-pipe, and she 
read as if startling the nations with the newness and 
profundity of her idea, "The Fourth of July comes up- 
on the fourth day of July." 

The third reader began poetically, but poesy left 
her speedily and prosaic fact came to her rescue, and 
we heard only, 

"I see afar toward the golden west, 

Two boys running to see which goes the best." 
For myself I was dead in earnest, as about every- 
50 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

thing else; I must do something or nothing. So I 
scribbled by day and rhymed by night, till I had pro- 
duced, forestalling many another seeker for fame, in 
my theme at least, the following: 

LINES ON SNOW. 

The snow in its feathery form comes down, 
And sleighbells jingle throughout the town; 
The boys with their sleds and their faces bright 
Are treading it down with the greatest delight. 

The girls are all laughing the new snow to see, 
And all are as merry as merry can be; 
O, who would not live where the snow falls so free 
The gift of our Father to you and to me. 

The snow as it falls upon mountain and glen 
Is a blessing to beasts and a comfort to men, 
It makes travel easy, it shortens the way, 
And lessens the toil on a cold winter's day. 

It comes in its season so cheerful and gay, 
So let us be happy with sled and with sleigh, 
Like all earthly things it will soon pass away, 
So let us enjoy it while here it shall stay! 

Our lovely teacher gave us a short talk on the 
difference between rhyme and poetry, encouraged us 
to read the best literature, and taught us much which 
I have rehearsed to pupils often since that day, on the 
wisdom of sticking to good sensible, English prose un- 
less the poetic in us bubbles up in genuine poetry and 
runs over. 

In those old Massachusetts years there came to 
our door one day a tall, stately, dignified negro- woman, 

51 



A PILGRIM MAID 

no less than Sojourner Truth. Harriet B. Stowe had 
written a pamphlet story of her life, the sale of which 
was helping her pay her way from slavery to the lib- 
erty she sought with a free married daughter in Mich- 
igan. Her kind words concerning her master made 
someone ask, "Why did you run away, Sojourner?" 
The answer came slowly and solemnly: "Honey, I 
didn't! I had bought my oft-promised liberty for 
$500. Earned after long days' work on the plantation 
and two or three times over, but master said I was too 
valuable to be freed, so when I came away I felt sure 
it was my right, and God was with me, and I didn't 
run; I jes' walked ebery step 0' de way!" 

On that walk up through New York and into the 
New England States, in those stormy days just pre- 
ceding the Civil War, Sojourner Truth had delivered 
powerful lectures on The National Outlook, Equal 
Rights for man and woman, and kindred themes. She 
came to us with the endorsement of Henry Ward 
Beecher and other great souls, but mother's pastor, Dr. 
Gray, was the only one in town quite willing to open 
his vestry to her and secure for her a large and intelli- 
gent audience. Though a wonderful orator and pro- 
found thinker, being a negro she found few (up north, 
too!) who were quite willing to entertain her, mother 
did so, and told me long after, that she would gladly 
have done so for her prayers. Even I recall them as 
marvels of pathos, spiritual power and devotion. 

At twilight Sojourner would sit crooning in a deep, 
rich voice old church hymns and the field songs of the 
plantation. 

My tiny brother, Frank, was almost abnormally 
52 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

conscientious. One evening he gave us all the usual 
good-night kiss as he was led away to bed. But his 
instinctive dread of strangers and particularly of a 
a negro, caused him to omit in his osculatory round, 
our sable guest, who, with folded arms was pacing the 
sitting room floor, doubtless evolving thoughts for her 
evening address. 

A great restlessness in the little bed in the adjoin- 
ing chamber led mother to inquire the cause, but in 
vain; till all at once Frankie's tow curls and big gray 
eyes appeared in the door, and the little white robed 
form dashed across the floor to the astonished visitor, 
who was thus hurriedly addressed by the childish pen- 
itent, "O, Sojourner! I never kissed you — but I can't 
go to sleep till I do!" She gathered him to her heart, 
laid her big black hands on his beautiful head and gave 
him a blessing which must have followed him ever 
after. Then he went back to bed and to sleep. 

Our eastern attachments were very strong, our 
friends very dear, the graves of our dead were holy 
places to us, yet, when a proposal came from dear 
Uncle William that mother take charge of a large Chi- 
cago boarding-house, in the hope of finding a different, 
if not an easier life, and above all else being nearer to 
Willie and likely to see his precious face the sooner, — 
the decision was to go west. 

To leave my chosen few student-mates, my Sun- 
day School and the church and pastor of my mother, 
was the beginning of an experience of farewells and 
heart-wrenchings I could wish no friend of mine to 
ever know. At the last Sunday School concert in 
which I shared, I said, at the close of my scripture 

53 



A PILGRIM MAID 

recitation, the simple goodbye which mother taught 
me, with quivering heart-strings and tremulous tones, 
"Will the pastor, the superintendent, the teachers and 
scholars of this dear Baptist Sunday School please ac- 
cept a child's simple, grateful, loving farewell? They 
shali prosper that love thee; Peace be within thy walls, 
and prosperity within thy places; for my brethren and 
companions' sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee !" 

As I stepped from the platform, Superintendent 
Hayes rose and handed me a very pretty purse con- 
taining several dollars, offering it as a token of the 
Sabbath School's affection, prayerful interest and ten- 
derest wishes for my future usefulness and happiness. 

What a Sunday School can be to a trustful child, 
what a power its influence may prove to hold back 
from future straying into error, doubt and careless 
living, I hereby most gratefully record! 

We arrived at the Garden City, October 3rd, 1861. 
From the woods and mountains, vales and brooks of 
New England we came to a flat prairie, to streets with 
muddy crossings, side walks ending in steps down, and 
after muddy plunges, steps up. 

Dear, old, dirty, blessed Chicago! The Civil war 
was even then deluging east and west, north and south 
with tears. We had seen our Shelburne Falls Com- 
pany of soldiers drilling on the green near our home; 
had attended at church, the farwell services for the 
newly enlisted, entering the church to the pipe-organ's 
first Sunday rendering of the "The Star Spangled 
Banner;" had seen the boys march to conspicuous seats 
in their new uniforms, to hear Dr. Gray preach a most 
masterly sermon on the Great Conflict: — not one of 

54 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

them realizing to what they were going forth, on the 
morrow, we had stood in the dense throng before the 
largest hotel of the village, and heard the words of 
love and counsel from the different pastors, the sobs 
of mothers, sisters, and sweethearts to be left behind; 
had seen the "brave boys in blue" march away to 
meet just as brave ones in gray; — and then mother 
had turned back to her heavy cares with new anxieties, 
for had not Willie been writing for weeks, that, 
though he was too frail, young and small, to go as a 
fighter, he could go as a drummer boy if mother would 
only consent, which she would not, and the boy obeyed 
his mother. On a certain 4th of July in Massachusetts, 
I had brought my tiny badge with pictures of Lincoln 
and Hamlin, to my mother and asked the meaning of 
the inscription surrounding the badge, and she had ex- 
plained to me — "E Pluribus Unum" and the symbol- 
ism of the American Flag, with a loyal enthusiasm 
which entered into my very soul, and from that hour 
to this / believe I have been a patriot. 

Chicago was thrilling with the war spirit as we 
entered her gates. Troops were marching to and fro; 
southern prisoners were being brought through the 
streets to Fort Douglas; schools were giving public ex- 
ercises in honor of the northern cause, and the blessed 
Sanitary Commission was being aided by church fairs, 
sociables, bazaars and the like, from Bull's head, the 
western limit of the city (an old tavern near the pres- 
ent Garfield Park,) to the lake, and from Fort Dearborn 
on the north to 12th street, then the southern limit of 
State Street. Soldiers' funerals, alas! were frequent. 

Our first home in the new city was on the north- 
55 



A PILGRIM MAID 

west corner of Washington and LaSalle Streets, oppo- 
site the Court House; and on the southeast corner 
where stands now the Chamber of Commerce, stood 
the First Baptist Church, Dr. Everts, pastor. Of its 
Sabbath School where mother led us homesick children 
the first Sabbath, B. F. Jacobs was the Superintendent. 
Mr. Elisha Mears was Frank's teacher, and I must re- 
cord one instance of his thoughtfulness for stranger 
boys for which he is now reaping his reward in a higher 
school, yonder. One noon my delicate little brother 
came home from Sabbath School, his face shining ra- 
diantly, with the joy of anticipation. "Oh mother!" 
he cried, "Mr. Mears has invited us boys to an even- 
ing at his home down on Michigan Ave., and said I 
must surely be there!" "My child" was the an- 
swer, "you can't go way down there alone, and back 
as late as ten o'clock. I'm sorry, Frankie, but you 
must try to give it up, patiently." The pale little face 
lighted up with a triumphant smile, as the lad ex- 
claimed, "O! but he's comin' after me, clear up here! 
and he'll bring me home when the party's over. He 
said so/" And he kept his word. For his kindness to 
the lonely, sickly little stranger I bless Elisha Mears 
today. 

My own Sabbath School teacher was a Mrs. Van- 
Wyck, pale, consumptive, but an earnest christian. 
In every lesson she found the Christ-message and 
brought it home to us, personally. One after another 
of the class became a confessing follower of Jesus 
Christ. I can see their reverent faces as one girl after 
another, from week to week left the class in time to 
robe for baptism at the morning service, — Minnie 

56 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

Bellamy, Maggie Everts and others. Willie, now 
Rev. W. W. Everts, was in my brother's class. From 
Mrs. Van Wyck's teaching, and Mr. Jacob's closing 
application of the lesson I carried home much tc think 
about, but it was hard for me to see the w 7 ay to the 
Cross. 

Mother had no social or outside religious privileg- 
es, with forty boarders, and strange Irish servants, 
some of whom would drink, some run away, some 
steal; and the life was as hard, if a different one, as 
the one she had left. 

My public school work was done in the Dearborn 
School. Principal Geo. D. Broomell, was a strict 
disciplinarian, as the times demanded, and a most ex- 
cellent instructor, as I rejoiced to know. Alice J. 
Jennings was the Assistant Principal, a faithful christ- 
ian teacher. I made rapid progress for a year, for the 
foundations had previously been well laid. As I en- 
tered the class preparing for the High School, I met 
my first temptation to be "wild" in school. Its new- 
ness was largely its charm. Some very careless older 
girls led me on. The rules were very strict. To turn 
in the seat, to whisper, even to borrow a text 
book, was a misdemeanor, to be reported at the four 
o'clock daily roll-call. 

I whispered, turned around, told funny stories, 
and though my lessons were easily learned, with little 
application, my deportment reports, (for I was so far 
honest) brought my average down alarmingly. One 
day Principal Broomell wrote on the margin of my 
monthly report to be taken home for the signature of 
parent or guardian, "Deportment imperfect for the 

< 57 



A PILGRIM MAID 

first time." I folded out of sight, the above margin- 
al note and handed to my busy mother the document. 
She glanced hurriedly over the study averages and 
the deportment marks and said "What's this de- 
portment average so low for? Never let this occur 
again V 9 And I carried back the statement chuckling 
with other similarly deceitful girls, that we had not 
fully been found out at home. We kept on thus a 
little while; but finally Principal Broomell wrote all 
over my margins, so extensively that poor mother 
could not fail to read his notes ending as follows: 
" Your daughter's natural place in her class is near the 
head: Her recent deportment, for some unaccountable 
cause has made her number twenty-six. Mother 
handed it back to me in silence, and I hurried to 
school. That evening I could not study till I had 
said to mother, "Why don't you scold me, mother? 
I wish you would!" (A certain look on mother's 
face was far worse to me, than a severe punishment 
would have been.) She simply said, "I presented my 
complaints at the Principal's room myself this after- 
noon, my child." Yes, crowded with cares, she had 
dressed for the street, found her way alone to the 
Dearborn School, and had had a talk with my Prin- 
cipal. He told her what an exemplary pupil I had 
been till lately and laid the blame for my recent care- 
lessness on my older mates. "Well, mother," I said 
"I can behave and Vll do it\" 

At the next monthly re-setting of our class ac- 
cording to our averages, I was called up from No. 26 
to No. 4, and the scholars all cheered. The Principal 
said "Young folks, that is all due to a good mother!" 

58 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

And it was! I would so like to blot out the fact, 
(not the memory alone,) of this added grief to my 
beautiful heart broken mother, my one wild term! 

One incident in my Chicago school life stands out 
distinctly after all the years, with its lesson of hope 
and encouragement. I have said my attempts at pen- 
manship were crude and imperfect, my capitals were 
a sight to behold! And it was my fortune to sit between 
two girls who, each, wrote a most beautiful hand! We 
were taught the Payson, Dunton and Scribner system, 
and occasionally Prof. Scribner himself came in to teach 
us and inspect our work. On the occasion of one of his 
visits, after his black-board lesson, he came down the 
aisle to examine our copy-books. My poor penman- 
ship was well known in school, for had not our princi- 
pal openly assured me that my capitals were capital 
examples of sheer carelessness? My face doubtless ex- 
pressed my consternation as the Proffessor approached 
our row of seats, for the pupils tittered audibly as 
they eyed me with more scorn than pity. My heart 
was in my throat. If the floor would only let me 
through! And there sat my two adjacent mates as 
calm as clock work awaiting their deserved praises. A 
mouse between two ferocious cats was calmness itself 
contracted with my palpitating form as the stern, 
large man neared my desk. He was wholly unprepar- 
ed after looking at the perfect work of the girl behind 
me for the awful sight that greeted his eyes on my 
dreadful page! He lifted it, laid it back on my desk, 
while a renewed giggle went through our division. 
Would he strike me, or send me home, or tell the prin- 
cipal to mark me ten below zero for carelessness? No! 

59 



A PILGRIM MAID 

He glanced an instant at my terror-smitten face and 
then said, "Never mind! Keep right on! Girls don't 
laugh! Some day this miss will be heard from when 
you will not!" I vowed inwardly that moment to 
learn to write fairly well, and to that one word of 
cheer, HOW MUCH I OWE! 

But my extreme nearsightedness! I could read, 
from my seat, nothing put upon the blackboard. The 
examination questions might be given me by a possi- 
bly unselfish seat-mate, but it took her time, and my 
supersensitive soul felt any slight, or unwillingness to 
be eyes for me, most keenly, and I wonder my stand- 
ing was half as good as it was. 

We were hardly settled in our new home when 
Willie came to see us. The hour looked forward to 
for nearly four years had come. 

But our darling was so changed! The prairie sun 
had kissed him brown as a berry. The pale little lad 
who had left us at twelve years of age, so agile and 
graceful, was now an overworked, overgrown, adoles- 
cent youth of sixteen, gaunt, thin, awkward in motion 
and with a voice changing from silvery notes to man- 
hood's gruffer, sterner tones. The influence of many 
hired men on the big farm had not been the best, and 
the craze "to go to the war" was all through him. But 
he was "our brother Willie" still, for whom each night 
we children had prayed by name with tender tears, 
since our separation. To mother it was a crucial 
hour. Was the agony and self-denial of those four 
years to bring rich fruitage, or only the assurance that 
in putting her child under other masters than herself 
she had made a mistake? Time would tell. 

60 



TO DEAR OLD DIRTY, BLESSED CHICAGO 

The generous, freehearted boy soon returned to 
his second prairie home with Mr. J. B. Snively, a thor- 
ough farmer from Virginia, a truly humane man, who 
on visiting us, later, reported Willie as a good boy, lov- 
ed of all the family, and always thoughtful of and 
helpful to womankind. 

After a year we moved to the southwest corner of 
Wabash Avenue and Randolph Street, now the site of 
a large business block in the city of the Chicago of 
today. 



61 



CHAPTER VIII. 
A New Home 

"Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home! 

Be it ever so lowly there's no place like home!'* 

Everything in our thoughts and plans looked to 
the one hoped for event — the buying of a tiny farm 
for Willie, a home for us all, somewhere, together. 
About this time the Illinois Central Railroad was sell- 
ing lands in southern Illinois. Rev. Joseph A. Bent 
from Middlebury, Vermont, later from Knox College, 
Illinois, had sought health by out-door travel and a 
livelihood in land speculation. And through his in- 
strumentality Willie mounted his loved Selim one day 
and rode to Washington County to "view the land- 
scape o'er." His trip resulted in our purchase of fifty 
acres, six miles from Irvington, twelve from Centralia 
and eight from Richview, — towns on the Illinois Cen- 
tral Railroad on a fine piece of green prairie, — four 
miles from which, in each direction stood a dense belt 
of woods, called by those dwelling in its immediate 
vicinity "the timber." Professor Bent and Rev. A. J. 
Miner of Syracuse, New York, had invested in this 
piece of prairie and had founded a village which was 
named Hoyleton, after a Mr. Hoyle who had donated 
a nice bell to be hung in chapel or school building as 
the village should decide. Professor Bent and Mr. 

62 



A NEW HOME 

Miner brought their own families and visited several 
states inviting other christian families to join them in 
buying up this opening section of the state. So the 
builders of this little town were mostly people of a 
good degree of culture, many of them college-bred men 
and women, some poor in health, all poor in purse. 

They speedidly erected a neat chapel, and a build- 
ing called the Hoyleton Seminary. Professor Bent 
preached carefully prepared sermons on Sundays and 
taught the first term of the Seminary. 

Later, J. Scott Davis, an Oberlin man, became 
the pastor of the little Congregational church; his 
brother Southwick Davis also settled in Hoyleton, and 
Dr. DeLos Stewart from Galesburg became the village 
Doctor. Perry B. Gaylord and wife, she a distant 
relative of Professor Cowles of Oberlin, and the Ather- 
ton family, Ward Atherton being a brother of Aunt 
Lizzie Aiken of Chicago's love and veneration, were 
among our neighbors. 

Mrs. Tyner, sister of Professor Bent from the 
east, a scholarly, cultered lady joined us, and besides 
teaching in our Sabbath School invited her class to her 
pretty cottage home to study D'Anbigne's History of 
the Reformation and similar books. No one can 
rightly estimate the influence of these christian fami- 
lies on my young, susceptible nature, What pleasant 
Sabbath services we held in that little white chapel! 
How we all toiled, enjoyed, suffered and hoped! And 
as the awful, devasting droughts came on blasting 
wheat fields and fruit farms, what trust and good 
cheer those christians evinced! What neighborliness! 
What mutual sympathy and helpfulness! 

63 



A PILGRIM MAID 

For ourselves the experiences were new enough. 
Frail Willie worked daily beyond his strength. Frank 
toiled at home and on neighboring farms, and his pale 
face failed to even get tanned! Our house was un- 
finished, as to its foundation, fuel was scarce, cisterns 
were not for a long time possible, yet our shelter was 
our own, and we were together. 



64 



CHAPTER IX. 
A Brave Boy in Blue 

"Out from our homes and hearthstones, 

Noble of heart and hand, 
Each to the call responding 

God and our own proud land — 
Brother, and friend, and husband 

Follow the guiding star, 
Gone from our homes, God help us! — 

Gone, gone to the war!" 

The war was still raging. Will still longed to join 
the Army, and added to his patriotism was the press- 
ing need of money to run the little farm and provide 
comforts for the house. Large bounties were being 
offered enlisting men, and Lincoln's call for "one hun- 
dred thousand more" was ringing over Illinois. With 
the few goods saved from the ravages of nine years 
of keeping boarders, mother made our home one of the 
cosiest in Hoyleton. Willie's inmost soul was respond- 
ing to the cry, 

"Stay not for questions while 

Freedom stands gasping; 
Wait not till honor lies wrapped in his pall! 

Brief the lips' meeting be, 
Swift the hands, clasping, 

'Off for the War' is enough for them all!" 
Finally came the bitter day when, yielding to 
65 



A PILGRIM MAID 

WilPs demand, "Mother, what, in years to come, 
shall I tell my children when they ask, Why did not 
YOU go to the rescue of your country ?" our mother said 
"I will no longer hold you back!" So, one morning 
early in 1864 Will rode away to enlist. At evening 
he returned and standing before the fire said (O, so 
proudly!) "I went out this morning a mere farmer boy 
of the prairie. I return tonight a soldier in the grand 
Army of the North." 

Why didn't I, standing near, go to my little 
mother and put my arms around her and kiss her 
quivering lips? Why did I not know that a little ten- 
der caressing from me would have been balm indeed 
to her suffering soul? Turn back, ye swiftly speeding 
years, turn back, and let me have one more opportunity 
to be the daughter I should have been, but through 
carelessness and selfishness was not! 

Mother had often told Willie that he was too deli- 
cate to be of any service as a soldier, and would not 
live to see fighting at the front which so many had to 
learn was but a small part of a soldier's life. But the 
desire of his boyish soul was granted. He was a sol- 
dier at last. 

And thus one morning riding on Selim with Frank 
behind him to bring the horse back, my brother rode 
to a near station to take the train for Duquoin where 
his company — Company G. of the 13th 111. Cavalry 
would be drilled. 

But was mother's boy to go forth to suffering and 
possible death, leaving her with no answer to her 
prayers that his young life should be dedicated to the 
service of our Lord? God had not forgotten her, 

66 



A BRAVE BOY IN BLUE 

though her faith must be tested, as ever, to the last. 

The very evening before he left us. Will was led 
by the kindly solicitation and tender hand of Deacon 
Rogers to a meeting for young people at Pastor Davis' 
home. I too was there, and just before the service 
closed, my brother rose and said, ''Friends, I have trod 
the wrong path long enough, I am going away in the 
morning, and here and now, asking your prayers, I 
give myself to the mercy and the service of Jesus 
Christ.' 7 And so he went from our sight, — our staff 
and stay, our loved one, our needed helper — "gone, 
gone to the war." 

Seventeen years afterwards as I stood over my 
dying brother Frank in Nebraska, he told me that as 
he rode behind Willie going to join his regiment, the 
latter said, "Frank, I don't want you to think that I 
look forward to returning home with flying colors and 
martial music and in uniform, and to receive the ap- 
plause of my friends. I don't expect to come that way. 
But in any case, I am going to be a soldier of Jesus 
Christ. And I want you to be a good christian man, 
m y boy, and promise me to meet me in heaven." And 
Frank added "Z promised him" 

We soon received a letter from Willie saying that 
he expected a short furlough soon, that he might re- 
turn to help mother rent the farm, and plan for her 
future. But after came a letter from a neighbor in 
the same regiment saying that the boy was ill. The 
officers had to refuse the promised furloughs, as so 
many had returned home only to become sick, and se- 
cure release from enlistment pledges. His regiment 
was hurried to camp Butler, Springfield, and on the 

67 



A PILGRIM MAID 

way in a severe snow storm many soldiers took a se- 
vere cold. In the barracks Will lay two or three days 
with only a blanket and a board for mattress, the snow 
blowing in over his prostrate form. He was then taken 
to the Army Hospital with typhoid pneumonia and 
had no nourishment, and little care. 

On the morning of February 17th, 1864, the nurse 
hurrying by his cot, pulled the covering from his face 
and he smiled a "thank you" and asked her to bolster 
him up, and ask the boys in the ward to be quiet as 
he wished to pray. He was known as a christian, and 
had asked for a New Testament immediately on ar- 
riving in camp. She sent mother word that she heeded 
his request and that "he folded his thin, pale, dying 
hands and uttered a most beautiful prayer, for the 
boys, the flag, his country and his mother." Then he 
lay down and thanked her. One half hour later as 
she passed his cot she saw he was dead. They pre- 
pared his body for the hospital burying ground, but 
the neighbor who had written us, said, "This boy must 
be sent to his mother." So two sick messmates who 
were coming home brought his body to Richview, and 
there hired a burly looking farmer who was coming our 
way to bear the precious remains to our home. 

Mother had notified Uncle William in Chicago of 
his nephew's illness and he had hurried to Springfield 
and the hospital to be told that Willie had died and 
was buried in the adjacent burial ground. So the 
dear, brave man secured a lantern and a guide and 
searched among soldiers' graves all the long night, in 
vain, for a mound marked as the resting place he 
sought. At daylight, heartsick and despondent he 

68 



A BRAVE BOY IN BLUE 

gave up the quest and returned to Chicago. 

Meanwhile, mother, hoping against hope, was 
watching for some message from the absent son and 
brother. About three o'clock one afternoon she spied 
a man in a big wagon driving across the prairie to our 
home. The man knocked at our door, Mother 
was alone, save for dear, little, motherless, cousin Wil- 
liam, who was making his home with us that year, and 
as she opened the door, the gruff man said, " Are you 
Mrs. Townsley?" "I am," was the answer. "Did 
you have a son at Camp Butler?" She gasped an 
affirmative reply, and seized the door for support. 
"Well, he's dead, and I've got his body out here in 
the wagon," said the stranger. Mother neither fainted 
nor fell. She laid hold of the unseen arm of the Lord, 
and calmly told the man where to go for aid in bear- 
ing the body to the house, and dispatched little Wil- 
liam for me who was at school. As the dear little lad 
staggered up the aisle and told me the bitter tidings, 
I thought, "Is mother's God a reality? Is he good 
and merciful?" 

As I came to the door, mother, forgetting for a 
moment her own grief met me with tender sympathy. 
Frank, summoned from the district school house came 
bravely home and I still see his pale, firm face as he 
walked silently into the house and took his place with- 
out a spoken word at mother's side. He became a 
man at once, and never left mother's side again unless 
forced to by duty. 

Dear Prof. Bent! He it was who closed school 
and hurried to us and prayed tenderly for our help! 
He it was, who thoughtfully clipped the lock of curl- 

69 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ing brown hair from over the brow of the dead, and 
gently led my mother to the casket, where in a soldier's 
blouse, and covered with a national flag, and with a 
cavalry hat and sword upon the coffin-lid, lay, silent, 
yet so peaceful, the body of Wm. L. Townsley, aged 
18 years and 10 months. 

As our kind Prof. Bent supported her swaying 
form across the room, to look upon the dead, mother's 
agony broke forth in the loud and bitter cry of one of 
old: "Would God I had died for thee — my son! my 
son!" 

The next day we laid our soldier-brother's body 
in the Village Cemetery. The pastor and neighbors 
were very kind. But to me though I tried to hide it 
from my praying mother, the cup of sorrow was one 
of bitterness indeed. 

After this I read the Bible to utter only infidel 
taunts and unbelieving sneers. We rented the farm 
land, often being cheated by renters, yet though the 
wolf of poverty came in at the door, the mother-love 
never went out. There were few men left to till the 
fields and care for the orchards; women worked hard 
in doors and often out side. Several of us girls came 
together and I drew up the paper we each signed which 
read something like this: "In view of the pressing 
need of our neighbors, and the scarcity af able-bodied 
men to toil, and maids to serve in kitchens, we the 
undersigned agree to work out doors, as our strength 
permits, at 35c a day, and when needed in our neigh- 
bor's kitchens at 25c a day." 

I signed it first, then the other girls, one recently 
from St. Louis, and we obtained the permission of our 

70 



A BRAVE BOY IN BLUE 

good post master, Dr. Stewart, to hang this notice in 
the post office. 

It brought quick response. Remember, I was 
then just at an age when lifting heavy sorghum cane, 
cutting corn, gathering potatoes and the like was toil 
beyond my strength, and although I was kept from 
every form of organic disease and have been to this 
day, yet I suffered ever after from nerve exhaustion, 
and through the busy years have never been strong. 

As to our "war wages," no millionaire counts his 
gains with more genuine hilarity than I felt in bring- 
ing to my mother my hard earned thirty-five cents a 
day in the land of Egypt, in the house of my bondage. 



71 



CHAPTER X. 
Strange Neighbors 

" Visions of childhood, stay, O stay! 

Ye were so sweet and mild, 
And distant voices seemed to say 

"It cannot be! they pass away, 
And other themes demand thy lay ; 

Thou art no more a child!" 

We brought to Illinois our New England Sabbath- 
observing principles, and it was new to us to see the 
wagon-loads of people driving off to visit married 
daughters and sons on that holy day. 

One Sabbath morning such a load stopped at our 
gate, and I explained to mother that one of my school- 
mates had hinted at this family visit, but I had no 
idea that hint would materialize as we were well 
known as strict observers of the Sabbath. Mother 
hurried Frank and me off to church, while in a kindly 
manner she received the visitors, when the lady of the 
wagon began at once, " I kinder reckon you-uns aint 
a lookin' fur company today. Our boys told us we'd 
better not come today as you-uns would all be to 
meetm'. But we started right arly so as to catch ye." 
"I reckon our boys," said the father of the company, 
"is a gettin' to be most Yanks themselves, what with 
goin' to your school, and a waitin on your gals so 

72 



i 



STRANGE NEIGHBORS 

much." Mother quietly answered "We do generally 
attend church, but I was late getting ready today. 
Come in and be at ease." 

Now, her guests, when they saw a wagon-load of 
visitors up to their gate, sent a big boy out to kill a 
young chicken, stirred up a batch of biscuit, and fried 
the chicken as they so well knew how, set a pitcher of 
sorghum molasses on the table with the biscuit, and 
the meal was ready. So mother asked Mr. Taft, her 
guest, to get out and kill a chicken for her which he 
did quickly, dressing it also in a twinkle, when moth- 
er stirred up dumpling, boiled potatoes, set on a pie, 
and performed as little labor as possible on the oc- 
casion, and when I returned from church we had din- 
ner, interspersed with neighborly conversation and 
mother's appeals to the best in our friends whose 
hearts were generous and their regard true, to obey 
the Lord and become "meetin'-folks" too. 

They went home early, assuring us, I believe sin- 
cerely, that they had "a right good time/' but they 
never came again on Sunday to visit us. 

Thro' these days we tugged on, mother more frail 
each year. Hot summers came to us, sometimes deep 
snows in winter; mother pleading upstairs in the yet 
unfinished chamber in that low, sweet voice I shall 
not hear again; I at school studying hard; Frank in 
the district school learning easily too, a slight grace- 
ful boy, with a pale, serious face, suffering from one 
effect and another of the terrible scarlet fever. 

The young people of Hoyleton, save a few of our 
own sort, were very different from those we had left 
in dear Massachusetts, and as I realized how likely I 

73 



A PILGRIM MAID 

was to become like the poor ones around me, and re- 
ceived letters from my eastern school-mates telling of 
their developing young womanhood in ladies' schools 
with culture and refinement all about them, while I 
was working out-of-doors, and seeing little real refine- 
ment, knowing few associations such as perhaps less 
gifted girls were finding in the old haunts, I grew very 
rebellious towards God; and, though I said little to 
mother about it, the bitterness of sin began to grow 
rank in my soul. 

In 1863 the southern sympathizers around us 
were as bitter as many of them were ignorant. As 
they came to our Seminary, for it had been built with 
a view to their uplift, we were taught to be courteous 
and helpful to these who were less favored. Two sis- 
ters, twenty-eight and thirty years old were among 
them, Sarah and Nancy Havens, Sarah was the bright- 
er of the two. Nancy was "pious". I asked her one 
day why at her age she came to school. "Wa'al," 
she replied, "Dad's goin' to die one of these yere days, 
and he's got a thousand acres o' land down yonder, on 
the edge of the timber, and I don't mean no sneaking 
lawyer shall cheat me out o' my rights, so I want to 
get through interest and pus-cent while I'm here." 
But it was so hard for her to learn! She was in the 
mental arithmetic class I taught. (I had two or three 
classes to teach to help pay my tuition,) and I know 
whereof I speak. 

I invited Sarah home to tea with me one after- 
noon at mother's suggestion, and we put some gilt- 
edged china tea-cups on the tea-table. Sarah picked 
one up, held it between her and the light and said, 

74 



STRANGE NEIGHBORS 

"This yere, I spose is what you-uns call chinny. I've 
heard of it, but I never seed none afore. It's mighty 
nice now, you better bleve!" 

These two sisters boarded themselves bringing 
food and fuel from home. One Friday night a heavy 
rain storm prevented their weekly trip home, and they 
ran out of fuel. On Saturday Sarah suggested that 
they go that night to a neighbor's wood-pile and help 
themselves. Nancy replied, "Sarah, I'm a christian, 
and I don't propose to do no such thing! I've got 
sins enough anyway 'acomin' up agin' me at the Jedg- 
ment without seeing no hand-cart o' wood bein' haul- 
ed up there in front o' me\ No siree! No wood steal- 
in' for me, an' I tell you I believe the Lord'll pervide!" 
In an hour our principal thought of their need and 
wheeled over an amount sufficient for their emergency, 
and Nancy was triumphant! Sarah told me of the in- 
cident saying, "Nancy's 'orful pious. None of us 
others are a bit like you-uns" 

Seven years later I met Nancy in another town 
still at school "try in' to larn interest and pus-cent!" 

At noon our students used to gather in a little 
company and sing the war songs of the day, — all but 
one maiden, Elsie Wakefield, who was a new-comer 
with a lover in the southern army. One noon as we 
stood in the wide hall chatting, Elsie made a very 
rough and indecent remark about the dead Union sol- 
diers. Instantly my blood was on fire. I, thin and 
pale and only fourteen years old, she nearly nineteen 
years of age, stout, muscular, and rosy, faced one an- 
other as I exclaimed, "Elsie Wakefield, I can see my 
dead soldier-brother's grave thro' that door-way; I 

75 



A PILGRIM MAID 

should respect your dead, and you shall respect mine. 
Say that remark over again if you dare, and I'll knock 
you down!" She looked calmly and tauntingly into 
my face and deliberately repeated her rude remark. 
How I did it I do not know, but straight from the 
shoulder my clinched fist flew and in a second, Elsie 
lay full length on the hall floor. A young man stand- 
ing near who had some athletic training, told me later 
that I dealt her a strictly pugilistic blow. If it was a 
sin on my part, it was the one I fear I have never re- 
pented of. 

There had been many threats from the timber 
against our Yankee settlement, and at one time a 
guard watched from the Seminary cupola nights to 
prevent the threatened burning of our haystacks and 
corn cribs. But this border land between friends and 
foes must be my home till after Lincoln's assassina- 
tion, over which I cried myself to sleep in my humble 
bed. 

Our pleasantest summer amusement was horse- 
back riding. The young men around us were very 
chivalrous and had very nice horses and to one of 
these gallants I am indebted for the ability (doubtless 
now lost) to ride the swiftest, handsomest horse I have 
ever mounted. Over the prairies twenty or more 
couples would speed on the loveliest moonlight nights, 
and sometimes the temptation, not always resisted, 
was great, to ride later than our parents thought best. 
Buggy riding was also a delight to me, and I soon 
learned to handle a pretty lively team. My more 
timid mother's expostulations often followed me as I 
gathered up my lines and dashed away from her sight — 

76 



STRANGE NEIGHBORS 

"Fannie, you'll surely be killed one of these days!" 
I have never been content to ride behind a pokey horse 
since those times. 

One spring I gained my mother's permission to 
try to secure a school to teach in "the timber'' for 
money was very scarce, and why should I not try to 
earn some in that way? To be sure I was but 
fourteen years old but I was a fellow-student of girls 
eighteen to twenty, and knew that as far as book 
knowledge was concerned I was capable. Borrowing 
a riding horse and securing the company of a neigh- 
bor twice my age, on a similar quest, I started, one 
bright day, to seek the aforesaid school. Mother had 
hinted at the habits of life among our "timber" neigh- 
bors as uncongial, but, as usual, I must see for myself. 
Our ride soon brought the aspirants for pedagogical 
honors, to the cabin where an old granny sat smoking 
her pipe before the fire place. Telling her we wished 
to see the school director of that district, we were in- 
formed that her "gal Sukey's husband was the man" 
but he was away from home. It was agreed between 
us seekers that I was to take the first school and my 
friend the next. As I surveyed the bacon hanging up 
all around the living room to be smoked largely in the 
tobacco fumes of the family, and could see no sign of 
a bedroom and but one bed set up in the family sit- 
ting room, I asked where the teacher generally board- 
ed. "Wa'al, I reckon she most gin'ally stops with 
us," was the reply. "Where does she sleep?" was my 
next query. "Wa'al, if she likes she can sleep on a 
cot here at the foot of John and Sukey's bed, or she 
can climb up yonder," pointing to a trap door above 

77 



A PILGRIM MAID 

our heads, "and turn in with a couple of the little gals; 
they're right smart children." 

Recalling my mother's immaculately clean sheets 
and the quiet peace of my own sleeping room at home, 
I concluded to move on, and Miss Graham thought it 
just as well to seek no farther for herself in that di- 
rection, so we turned homeward. 

As we passed a cabin in the heart of the timer belt, 
and were singing the Battle Cry of Freedom, a truly 
uncouth appearing man hurried towards us from the 
cabin and shaking his fist at us shouted, "Stop that 
song! You can't sing none o' them Union pieces goin' 
by my door. Shut up or I'll shoot you as quick as I 
would a dorg!" He that knows nothing fears nothing. 
So I sang on. He pulled a revolver from his pocket, 
and my frightened comrade dug her spurs into my 
horse's side and her own pony's and we rode furiously 
on, I shouting back 

"Down with the traitors, 
Up with the stars!" 
while my friend cried, "Don't you know anything, 
Fannie Townsley? That man would have shot you 
in another minute, I have lived in Egypt long enough 
to know that." 

I whispered my request that she never tell moth- 
er about it, and she never did. But I decided that it 
was not my vocation to teach my first school in such a 
locality. So with a foolish daring, I applied for the 
summer district school in our own village of Hoyleton, 
and of course was refused the position because of my 
extreme youth, and intimacy with the older children 
who would probably attend. Nevertheless I must 

78 



STRANGE NEIGHBORS 

earn some money. So at the suggestion of one of our 
good christian neighbors, I went about getting a sub- 
scription school, and in a short time had twenty-five 
scholars on my list, a larger number than would have 
attended the summer district school session. It was 
with some foreboding I took my place as teacher, but 
the parents of my pupils wanted to aid my dear moth- 
er, and me for her sake, and instructed their children 
to give me due honor which they did. 

Only one negro family lived among us, John An- 
derson, his wife and their little boy, Isaiah by name. 
One day John came to our home and asked mother if 
she were willing he should ask me to take Isaiah into 
my school, She consented and of course I said yes. 
John frankly said *Tse 'fraid Miss Fannie, it will make 
you trouble." "Well," I answered, "I'll be fair all 
round. I will seat Isaiah by himself, and hear him 
recite by himself as I really have time to, and he shall 
not annoy anyone if I can help it." So little Isaiah, 
cleaner in person and dress than most of the other pu- 
pils, and carrying a new little primer, came to school 
the next Monday. The pupils treated him well. He 
made no trouble and learned fairly well. That Mon- 
day evening, the young man who had taught me to 
ride called on me (I was teaching him to read notes; 
I mean musical notes,) and after the lesson was over 
he said "Miss Fannie, did Isaiah Anderson come to 
your school today ?" "He did" I answered. "Did you 
receive him?" "I most certainly did." He looked 
pretty sober, and I told him I had no other way to do, 
being the only negro child in town, there was no pos- 
sibility of his attending a separate school; I had seat- 

79 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ed him by himself, he had annoyed no one, and no one 
in the school seemed to object. "Well" he replied, "I 
ana only afraid you'll have trouble, that is all." I as- 
sured him I had no fear and should probably call on 
him for aid if needing it. 

The next evening he called again. "How many 
scholars today ?" he asked. "Twenty-five as usual" 
I replied. "Well, my parents have their three boys 
in that school, and my father said this morning that 
if it was anybody but Miss Fannie teaching that nig- 
ger he'd jerk his three out of school in a hurry, Mr. 
K— feels the same." "Very well" I replied "only 
don't go round stirring up your friends from Ken- 
tucky." 

For several evenings the young man regularly 
brought me the same question and warning. But the 
school went on to its close, and of the money paid me 
then by the patrons no other dollar did me any more 
good than the one John A — paid for the tuition of 
Isaiah. 

The next fall I attended a series of revival meet- 
ings in our chapel, and my emotion being deeply stir- 
red, I announced myself a christian. But my religion 
being one of the meeting house and not of the Lord, I 
depended entirely on the magnetic influences which 
there surrounded me. Away from that building I felt 
little emotion, and had nothing better to take its 
place. There, I could shed tears, whisper vows and 
ask for prayers. But away from the sacred scene, I 
was still careless and self-willed. 

Often I hurried to the evening service with a 
young man ; when I know now I ought to have been at 

80 



STRANGE NEIGHBORS 

home with my lonely, smitten mother, who was pray- 
ing daily "Any way Father, only save and keep my 
girl!" 

In a few short weeks my religious emotion van- 
ished, and I became more restless than before. No 
Christ had entered my soul, no divine spirit had been 
welcomed as my guide and teacher, and most surely I 
had not been born again. 

The following year in another religious service I 
made a desperate vow to serve the Lord. I must not 
fail this time. So every known duty was to be done 
promptly. Every cross shown me must be borne. I 
would try hard this time. Like the Pharisee I was 
willing to fast three times in the week, to pray in 
meeting, read whole chapters in the Bible regularly, 
and harder than all else, if I might have my way 
about some things, I would try to be patient and self- 
denying at home, even unto the milking of our cow — 

the reddest and ugliest creature on the H prairie! 

I had easily learned to milk, but this vicious cow would 
persist in kicking over my brimming pail at least once 
each day, and seemed to fairly smile with delight in 
stepping on my unwary feet, or jerking her head so as 
to strike me in the face with her horns most unex- 
pectedly. There are a few living today who remember 
that notoriously hateful cow, and my violent outbursts 
of temper in my daily combats with the world, the 
flesh and the devil, the last the epithet applied to my 
tormentor in red. 

Finally I frankly and openly announced that I 
felt there was no use in my trying to be a christian, 
and had given up the contest. Had I not heaped up 

81 



A PILGRIM MAID 

one pile of good deeds after another, only to see my 
self-constructed monument of doing topple in ruins at 
the fierce temptations besetting me mostly from 
within? Other young people met manifold tempta- 
tions from without. But 1 tremble and am amazed 
even now, after thirty-five years as a Gospel preacher, 
at the depths of evil in my own soul, and the raging 
of its strong sea, but for the daiiy presence of One 
Who, walking over the turbulent waves of my Tiberias, 
whispers hour by hour, "It is I! Be not afraid!" 

Mother still believed in prayer, or rather in the 
God of Prayer and hoped on, praying as never before. 

But to my soul the questions came thick and fast: 
Why couldn't I be good? Why had it not been born 
in me as in others to be lovely and teachable and pa- 
tient? Why must such adverse circumstances come 
to me? Why did He try me so if my mother's God 
really cared for vie? Why did he not help me? 

Ah! I had yet to learn to see the ME, in all these 
queries. But I shouid yet see, for the mouth of the 
Lord had spoken it. 



82 



CHAPTER XL 
Sought and Found 

"There's a wideness in God's mercy- 
Like the wideness of the sea, 

There's a kindness in His justice, 
Which is more than liberty." 

Later came our severest drought. Cattle died 
of thirst on the open prairie, and horses and sheep 
lay rotting in the timber whither they had strayed in 
search of water. Crops failed, vines languished, no 
herd was in the stall, and ever dear Selim, Will's pet 
horse, we were obliged to sell. The church people 
held meetings to pray for rain. The pastor preached 
of our duty to trust in the Lord God of Elijah. At 
length we were hungry. Mother needed nourishing 
food. Intense summer heat was taking my strength. 
The careful planning and the culinary skill of our 
mother enabled us to enjoy more palatable food than 
many around us could boast. "If God is, and mother's 
faith in Him is pleasing in His sight, why does He let 
her suffer thus?" was my constant heart cry. 

One forenoon I seized our milkpail and started 
out. "Where are you going child?" I was asked. 
"To hunt meat, and you needn't expect me back 'till 
I find some!" was my gruff reply. Mother turned to 
the stairway, and I knew she went to ask help of God. 

83 



A PILGRIM MAID 

"Let her go," said Frank pointing to me, "If there's 
any meat this side of Chicago, she'll find it." I had 
heard that a farmer down in the timber had butchered 
four cows, because he had no feed for them, and I 
meant to walk in the hot sun till I found his home. 

With rebellion in my heart and vexation on my 
tongue I started dowm the village street. A near 
neighbor from Connecticut called to me from her door- 
way, " Whither bound, Miss Fannie?" "To hunt some 
meat/' was my curt reply. "Come in child," said 
my neighbor, "We butchered our pet lamb this morn- 
ing, and you may carry a pail full of meat to your 
mother." As I carried it into the kitchen with a tri- 
umphant smile, mother came down the stairway, 
peacefully saying, "Ah, child; I knew the dear Lord 
would provide ." Did any meat ever before taste so 
delicious as that? 

Prof. Bent's varied duties became so numerous 
and burdensome that the Seminary Trustees now sought 
a younger teacher to take charge of the growing school. 
A young man hardly twenty-one, Chas. F. Holcomb, 
son of the honored and saintly W. H. Holcomb, of 
Knoxville, 111 , was called and accepted the position. 

There were many wonderings among our young 
men and women, as to the new teacher's attainments, 
appearance and characteristics. We saw him at church 
the first time, as being invited urgently he took his 
place at our small organ to play the hymns we all sang. 

Mentally I vowed to watch him and study his 
Christianity. It was a pleasure to more than one fam- 
ily that a refined, gentlemanly, christian young man 
was to lead our young people, as instructor and friend. 

84 



SOUGHT AND FOUND 

He had been there some little time, when it occur- 
ed to him that he might do more than pray for his 
pupils. With characteristic modesty he conferred 
with the pastor, as to the propriety of calling a meeting 
in his own room in the Seminary building for conver- 
sation on the subject of personal religion. Pastor Da- 
vis agreed, gladly, with the teacher in this plan. So 
one afternoon at four o'clock such a meeting was held. 
A miniature flood kept me at home that day. But that 
evening a young friend came to our house and said, 
"Miss Fannie, you missed a good deal today being ab- 
sent from school, Mr. Holcomb called us into his room 
to talk about religion." "Did you go?" I asked. 
"Yes." "What good did it do you? Who else went?" 
Tasked quickly. "A good number went in," said my 
schoolmate and added reverently, "It did us all good, 
some of us told him our troubles, and he talked kind- 
ly with us and we all knelt down while he prayed with 
us. I just wish you had been there. It would have 
done you good." "I doubt it. Nothing of the kind 
can help me, but I won't hinder the rest of you." 

In my inmost soul was a true regret that I had 
not been in that first inquiry meeting. But hot pincers 
could not have tortured me into confessing it. 

The next day I went to school. A quiet air per- 
vaded the Principal's room. "What ails everybody?" 
I whispered to my seat mate as I took my seat. All 
through the day I noticed a serious tone underlying 
everything. It stirred the evil spirit within me. 
At four, on disnrssing school, Mr. Holcomb very 
kindly said, "There will be a second inquiry meeting 
in my study now for all who are interested in person- 

85 



A PILGRIM MAID 

al religion/' Surely the call could not mean me. I 
would acknowledge no interest of the sort. Had I not 
tried to be a Christian too often? Would they catch 
me at another such an attempt? Not if I knew my- 
self; but I didn't. As the others passed out I inwardly 
vowed to go immediately home, and seizing my books 
and dinner-pail started for the door. All had left the 
room but my teacher and myself. Looking straight at 
my set face he politely asked "Miss Fannie will you not 
please go into our meeting?" I tried to defiantly an- 
swer "No sir." but as I dropped my face lest a pos- 
sible hint of relenting should meet my teacher's ques- 
tioning gaze, I was startled to see two glistening tear- 
drops fallto the floor. They were not from my hot, 
defiant eyes, and hastily adding to my half uttered re- 
fusal a "Thank you, I will!" I followed him into that 
meeting and sat quietly in the midst of my mates. 

This was long ago. Our teacher had not had 
training as a personal worker, a Y. M. C. A. leader, or 
anything of the sort, but he loved and sought to obey 
Christ and the Christ-love for needy humanity had en- 
tered his soul, and he seemed to feel that our futures 
hinged on the critical Now of that sacred hour. He 
read a few verses of the New Testament, prayed a few 
earnest words in our behalf, and asked each one why 
he had not become a Christian, or if he had decided 
to. When he came to me, I bitterly said, "Many of 
you know I've tried and tried in vain. I don't think 
any one in town believes I could be a christian or 
cares, and I never shall try again. Everything is 
against me, more than I can tell you." Mr. H. sim- 
ply pointed me to Him who did care, enough to die 

86 



SOUGHT AND FOUND 

for me, begged me let all past efforts be forgotten, and 
devote myself to the Mighty to Save. I made no 
promises, and soon started very soberly over the mud- 
dy prairie to my home. What a battle was raging in 
my soul ! and I got a glimpse of the bitterness within me, 
and saw into what depths of evil I should sink, if I 
kept on, guideless, blindly, growing more and more 
opposed to the Divine Will and filled with all the mul- 
tiplied and increasing evils of my desperate and cer- 
tainly unholy nature. Dare I go on thus? Not dare 
I seek Christ's love and help, but dare I longer refuse 
them? I had nearly reached home. Standing in the 
prairie mud up to my ankles. I stopped; Heaven and 
Hell were bidding for my soul; I knew it. Legions 
of demons fought against all holy influences in the 
struggle. Weak, utterly helpless, I remember how I 
lifted my right hand to Heaven and begged God for 
help in the first real self-surrendering prayer I had 
uttered, "O Lord Jesus there must be something in 
mother's Christianity, show it unto me, I am a mis- 
erable soul. Let me depend on Thee. Do something 
for me, or I shall fall in less than hour! I give my 
whole life to Thee, if thou carest for it, only hold me 
and save me from myself!" 

As I look back through the years, seeing many 
crooked paths, sorry for many errors and careless sins, 
I yet know / was saved that hour, just as surely as I 
am today. 

As I touched the gate-latch, my enemy unwilling 
to let me go, spoke very distinctly to my young spirit: 
"This is all very well, child, very excellent in you; but 
wait for a more propitious hour, when you are among 

87 



A PILGRIM MAID 

better people and with more helpfulness in your sur- 
roundings. Just think of that red cow." And I did. 
I went through the battle again until a divine spirit 
seemed to upbraid me for ever thinking that a simple, 
ugly, old red cow should seem to bar the gates of char- 
acter-development, service and Heaven itself, against 
the progress of a soul for whom Christ died! It really 
seemed a ludricrous thing for a moment, and I set my 
nails into the palm of my hand as I cried aloud , 
"Never! O, God in Heaven! Now's the time for Thy 
deliverance! I never can milk that cow and be a 
christian without special help from above. Do not fail 
me I beg Thee! Hold me close and save me!" And 
He did! I kept my hand tightly holding the invisible 
hand of my new master, and went way around the 
house in my muddy boots to please Him, whereas I 
had usually tramped through the sitting room muddy 
or not. As mother opened the kitchen door I said 
with an inward fear I should loose hold of the unseen 
Hand if I waited too long for the dreaded battle to 
begin — "Please hand me the pail and my milking gar- 
ments and I'll go on and milk before coming in." 

Blessed mother! She took my books and dinner- 
pail and said "Come right in, dear child! That old 
beast will never try you again, I sold her today for 
seventy dollars." Long after, she told me that the 
moment she saw my face at that hour she knew the 
battle of my young life had been fought, and that al- 
though still untrained, undiciplined, I had become a 
loyal soldier in the army of our Lord. 

I recall the first thing that came into my mind as 
I entered the home that day — a text of mother's fre- 

88 



SOUGHT AND FOUND 

quent quoting: "God will not suffer you to be tempt- 
ed above that ye are able, but will with every temp- 
tation provide a way of escape, that ye may be able 
to bear it." 



89 



CHAPTER XII. 
A Turning Point 

"Nothing but the infinite pity is sufficient 
For the infinite pathos of life." 

I can wish for my readers no richer gift than the 
Peace which was mine in surrendering the throne-rcom 
of my being to its rightful Lord and Master. No ex- 
ultant glorying, but rest and a sense of duty done, not 
a desire to talk, or even to attend religious meetings 
as heretofore I had known, but to be alone with my 
new Helper asking his forgiveness and grace, and a 
fuller acquaintance with Himself — this was my new 
desire. 

Yet, the following afternoon I went to a prayer 
service at our chapel, and at its close as Pastor Davis 
urged any who felt their need of divine aid, to speak 
their desires, fearing I might dishonor my new T Saviour 
by silence, I rose, with no self-confidence at last, 
but tearfully and tremblingly and as nearly as I can 
recall them, spoke these words: "Having made such 
failure in the past, and been so bitter in my opposition 
to Christianity and the Bible, I have no claim on your 
sympathy or patience; but, dear neighbors, I tell you, 
that last evening, out there on the prairie I gave my- 
self to the One called The Mighty to Save. I know 
my helplessness; but somehow I-believe-in-my-soul- 

90 



A TURNING POINT 

that-He-took-me, and that henceforth I belong to Him. 
If you can and will, please pray, again, for me!" 

The moment I began to speak, I saw my teacher's 
head go down on the organ before him and heard him 
sob. Years afterward I learned that he had spent 
most of the preceding night in prayer for my conver- 
sion. A tender hush came over us all, one or two 
earnestly offered prayer for me, and as we left the 
house, strong men and helpful women quietly took my 
hand as with few words we passed out. One woman 
burst forth: "Why, Miss Fannie, we all knew you 
could be a christian whence once you got ready to be." 

Didn't she sum up quite a bit of good theology in 
that remark? At any rate I have preached more and 
more forcibly for years, the surrender of the Will as 
the essential step to acceptance of Jesus Christ as Sa- 
viour and Master. 

Shortly after my conversion, the Pastor came to 
mother saying, "I suppose you will expect your daugh- 
ter to be immersed and join the Baptist church at 
Centralia, (12 miles away), the pastor being a Gilbert 
Frederick by name; I will see him and arrange for the 
baptism if you wish." My Baptist mother's reply as 
she thanked Mr. Davis for his thoughtful kindness was 
this: " Fannie must settle that for herself; I know 
she has a very bitter opposition to immersion, and / 
know, as she does not, that events preceding her birth 
are probably responsible for this. I doubt if she con- 
siders it her duty." 

One day when my mates were talking of church- 
joining, I said to mother, "I suppose you will expect 
me to become a Baptist, mother." She answered, 

91 



A PILGRIM MAID 

" You have a New Testament and eyes to read. Your 
future demands that you settle this for yourself.' 7 
"Well," I said, "I cannot bear to disappoint you. But, 
with my awful horror of the act, my intense physical 
repulsion to the sight of even any one standing in a 
body of water, for which antipathy / cannot account, 
I shall be sprinkled and join this little Congregational 
church here." "You shall have my blessing all the 
same," cried mother, and I did. 

However, I asked Pastor Davis what, to him, 
baptism stood for. I well knew its symbolic meaning 
to Baptists and had often wondered when seeing con- 
verts sprinkled, why so little was said to them as to 
the possible significance of the act. Pastor Davis said 
"Why, Miss Fannie, really — I can't — yes — it must 
mean cleansing, for water implies that. 11 

Somehow, to me, the use of a few drops of water 
was but a meager sign of a soul cleansing which cost 
the life of God's human son, but I answered, "Would 
it not mean more to consider it a sign of the Holy 
Spirit's work?" "Yes — I — guess that's what — it may 
mean" was the hesitant reply; and I hurried home to 
reflect on the scenes which I had witnessed in my 
earlier years, and my teacher's and my mother's ex- 
planations of baptism as "the mould of christian doc- 
trine," holding in the one symbolic act the seven fun- 
damentals of the gospel teaching; wherein we confess 

1. Our need of cleansing. 

2. Jesus' death and burial for us. 

3. Jesus resurrection. 

4. Our death to sin. 

5. Our resurrection to a new life. 

92 



A TURNING POINT 

6. Our belief in the resurrection of the body. 

7. Our belief in the Immortal Life to come. 
But — it was not for me! Circumstances, at least 

for a long time, prevented me. So with twelve others 
I united with the Hoyleton Congregational church 
April 1st, 1866 and spent the most of the sacred day 
in reverent, grateful prayer. 

I had met Christ! He has found the sheep that 
was lost. 



93 



CHAPTER XIII. 
College Days 

"Standing with reluctant feet 

Where the brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and childhood fleet! 

Then why pause with indecision 

When bright angels in thy vision, 
Beckon thee to fields Elysian ? 

Bear a lily in thy hand; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 
One touch of that magic wand/' 

What should I do with my life? Common, every 
day experiences had begun to take on new meanings, 
I was no longer my own! So there gradually grew in 
my soul the conviction that the Lord must have the 
future of my days for His own honor. Many of our 
young people were, to say the least, far from helpful. 
I was developing very fast, in some respects, was fond 
of the society of young men, naturally affectionate 
and trustful, and needed uplifting influences. Dear 
mother wisely said little, but keenly felt the situation, 
and realized I was forming ties it would soon be diffi- 
cult to sever. On these matters I was peculiarly sen- 
sitive, apt to resent suggestions, or close questioning, 
full of wishes, yearnings, desires and eager, impulsive 
affections waiting to leap forth from my young heart, 

94 



COLLEGE DAYS 

like wild hungry beasts from a cage — to fasten them- 
selves—on what? How today, my disciplined heart 
goes out to all such girls, untrained spirits, throbbing, 
pent-up natures! 

How much, in such an hour, an older person's ex- 
pressed interest counts, let me here stop to illustrate: 

From the Post Office I one day took a letter bear- 
ing a one-cent stamp, which must have come from 
some one in our immediate vicinity, I had received 
many girl-missives, many billet-doux from young 
swains, but never before had one so thrilled me with 
holy purpose as this note from good, sober Deacon 
Rockwell! 

He wrote to assure me of his interest in my soul's 
welfare, and to tell me that I was daily remembered 
by name at their family altar, and to bid me stand 
firm as a rock for God on all questions that I should 
meet as to christian duty and womanly privilege. I 
read it soberly, and thankfully, and kept it many 
years. That somber-looking man of toil had sown a 
seed from which has grown abundant harvests. Some- 
one besides mother was praying for me. 

Another day Mr. Southwick Davis met me and 
said, "How are you getting on in the new life, Miss 
Fannie?" My lips quivered as I said, "O, its hard to 
know just what is right, sometimes." "I thought so," 
he replied, "But wife and I pray for you every even- 
ing, and we'd like you to come to our home to tea 
Thursday evening; we'll have a quiet little talk; we 
were young ourselves once, my girl, and don't you give 
up the ship, if there is a big storm going on." If it had 
been to a buggy ride, or an apple paring or a singing 

95 



A PILGRIM MAID 

class, it would not have seemed so strange an invita- 
tion. But to be asked all by myself to tea to that 
christian home, because the friends wished to talk with 
me about my own affairs— that made me triumphant- 
ly radient, as I announced at home the honor offered 
me, and proceeded to brush up my only respectable 
dress for the occasion. 

Mrs. Davis met me kindly and before tea we talk- 
ed on general topics. I have since been received, ban- 
queted and feasted in all sorts of homes from the Gov- 
enor's mansion to the prairie cabin of the western 
farmer, but that tea-table stands out unique and sa- 
cred in my memory. 

Later as the conversation took on a more person- 
al tone, I was led to open my heart, and answer with 
candor, questions which formerly would have called 
forth my girlish, impudent wrath. And as these two 
told me of their youthful struggles, and poured the 
cup of christian sympathy for my thirsty lips, I said 
in my soul "I will be brave! God shall have me, first, 
last and always!" At nine o'clock Mr. Davis took his 
lantern and offering me his arm as politely as any 
youthful gallent might have done, escorted me to my 
mother's door. 

I may not visit the grave of that good man 
whose weary body has long lain in a distant state, but 
the influence of that helpfully, suggestive visit has 
aided in moulding the character and shaping the 
life of one who expects "some glad day" to thank 
those two faithful saints, face to face. 

Various influences helped to strengthen my grow- 
ing purpose to go to college. One evening, one said 

96 



COLLEGE DAYS 

to me, "When you were converted I knew it meant 
preparation for a different life than that which some 
of us will lead, and it is right. You must go to school. 
You can't stay here. It will be hard for some of us, 
but go you must." 

So I soon gained courage to approach mother with 
a statement as dear to her soul as it was startling to 
her ears: "Mother, it's high time for me to go away. 
Don't say anything to me, but show me how, and I'll 
write out an advertisement for the sale of this proper- 
ty." Blessed mother! She simply lifted her hands 
and said, "The God of the widow and the Father of 
the fatherless has answered my prayer." 

The farm was sold and in January 1867 we return- 
ed to Chicago to remain there three months until the 
cottage purchased at Wheaton should be vacant. 

Once during those weeks of waiting the waves of 
loneliness and homesick dread swept over me till I was 
ready to retract my decision, which retraction I know 
now would have meant a life of disappointment, deg- 
radation and misery. I wrote that retraction, laid it 
on the mantel and said to the God Who was trying 
so hard to save me from myself, "Please help me now ! 
If I do not receive some slight token from Thee before 
three o'clock this afternoon, I shall mail this letter, 
and later return to the leeks and onions of Egypt, bid- 
ding farewell to college plans, in an effort to do good 
in a home life where sincere respect and honor will not 
have laid the foundation." At two o'clock came a 
casual message from the old home assuring me of the 
unmanly, riotous behavior of some I had left behind 
me; and as holier courage and purer determination 

97 



A PILGRIM MAID 

took possession of my spirit, I knelt and said,"0 God, 
Thou hast answered! I will not sell my birth right 
for a mess of pottage, not if I die!" I did not die, 
but went to Wheaton College, entered six week behind 
the rest of my class, caught up and passed with the 
highest marks of any in said class, save one, who en- 
tered as late as did I. None of my classmates knew 
my homesickness, my inner conflicts, or my gratitude 
to Our Father for mental aid from day to day. Ever 
since, I have prayed over my studies earnestly and 
believingly. 

History, languages, literature and some branches 
of mathematics were easy for me, on which I put far 
less labor than did many more diligent and more wor- 
thy students. I can claim no credit for patient study 
or hard digging as a college-girl. 

Mother had purchased the little cottage at 
Wheaton where she helped me in essay-writing and in 
my studies unselfishly. My Hoyleton teacher wrote 
me frequently and kindly, words of encouragement. 
My Wheaton Latin Teacher, Helen S. Norton, of 
Howell, Michigan, was the most enthusiastic and effi- 
cient instructor I have ever known. Uncle William 
was frequently out from the City showing truest in- 
terest in my progress. Brother Frank was taking a 
business course in Chicago's Bryant & Stratton's Com- 
mercial College, returning home each evening to find 
mother watching at the door for her comforter. She 
was evidently breaking down. We were poor. My 
studies, college entertainments and music absorbed me 
thoroughly. Mother toiled on far beyond her strength, 
and — I let her! 

98 



COLLEGE DAYS 

Shortly after Uncle William's second marriage (to 
Mrs. Mary T. Clark, of Wheaton,) mother went into 
the city, one day, professedly on a shopping expedition. 
She found me in excellent spirits on her return, for I 
had kept house quite to my own satisfaction, though 
for only two days. As she entered the house, flushed 
with the excitement of her brief visit, and stood be- 
fore me, sweet and beautiful, her cheeks rosy-red, 
as a little effort always left them, she laughingly said, 
"What do you suppose they did to me in Chicago to- 
day ?" I thought of possible medical treatment for 
difficulties she might have been keeping from me, and 
guessed and guessed in vain. "Well don't be scared, 
child; but I've just had my life insured/' she said, and 
in explanation added, "Of course I may live to be a 
hundred; and of course we are all liable to a sudden 
call hence, and if I should drop off some day I long to 
leave you children a tiny mite to fall back upon. It 
was only for a thousand a piece in your uncle's com- 
pany — the old Charter Oak." 

In my pre-occupied state, preparing for an ap- 
proaching entertainment I did not notice how frail she 
then was, but taking her wraps, assured her that ere 
long I should be able to teach, and so earn all she 
would need in a more restful life which was my one 
hope and ambition, and we dismissed the subject. 

It was so good to have her back — the darling 
mother, robed as for fifteen years she had been, in the 
garb of widowhood. How often I had heard her say, 
"There are widows, and there are widows indeed!" 

My first literary effort to bring me credit as a 
member of the Aelioian Society was the writing of 

99 



A PILGRIM MAID 

"A Chronicle of Wheaton College" for the above men- 
tioned entertainment. Our Society's rules required 
that I first obtain the consent of President Blanchard. 
I entered his private office with fear, and timidly 
stated my request. Slowly pacing the floor, this busy, 
overwhelmed, patriarchal father turned to me saying, 
"Hem! So you wish permission to write a Chronicle? — 
Well listen to me, Miss Townsley: A Chronicle is us- 
ually written in a scriptural form of expression and 
may be a tribute of praise and a help to a young col- 
lege, or — a — hem! — it may be written so as to be a 
disgrace — hem! — even a curse to an institution. There 
are few I would trust to do us up in that style at this 
critical period of our college history, a — hem." Then 
came a long pause, and then the added and welcome 
words, "Miss Fannie — you like fun, and are full of wit, 
but you've been a good girl here, have broken no 
rules, and have been a faithful student, a — hem — Miss 
Fannie — Vm going to trust you. You may write the 
Chronicle." 

I hurried home to begin, and inwardly vowed the 
vow my mother faithfully endorsed, to be loyal to the 
principles on which this feebler college copy of Oberlin 
was supposed to be founded. Its rules as today, tor- 
bade the use of liquor, tobacco and playing cards, or 
membership in any secret society. Some scornful 
chaps had recently broken some of these rules and 
though the sons of influential fathers they were 
promptly suspended. Mother explained to me their 
duty to abide by any college rules while studying un- 
der its care and instruction, or to go to some other 
school less rigid in its discipline. So I hunted up the 

100 



COLLEGE DAYS 

college records, wrote eagerly, and briefly but force- 
fully of the surety that on the suspension of the above 
named young men, the "foundations of the college 
were not destroyed, neither were the pillars thereof 
shaken/ ' I made the history and fundamental teach- 
ings of the school as entertaining and emphatic as I 
knew how, and on its public reading, saw the tears 
roll down the gratified president's cheeks, as he led the 
applause surpassing my expectations, Two days later, 
his daughter, a teacher, and now Mrs. E. B. Cook, 
handed me in the class-room a receipted bill for the 
next quarter's tuition, signed by the treasurer, coun- 
tersigned by the president "in appreciation of the 
Chronicle" which was published, serially in the Col- 
lege Record, few copies of which now exist. 

Our class in logic found the text book we used not 
quite up to our ideas. Dr. Walker, teacher of Homi- 
letics and mental Philosophy quite agreed with us. 
Prof. Webster, however, persistently adhered to the 
prescribed text book till one evening at a "Public/' 
four of us unlogical girl singers sang an "Ode to Logic" 
as a quartette. Words and music obviously our own . 
What delight Julia Blanchard, daughter of the honored 
president took in rolling forth the bass notes of the 
chorus! Here are sample verses daringly rendered in 
the very teeth of Professor Webster and his associates : 

O, Logic is the study 
Of which you now shall hear; 
I'm sure you'll think it splendid 
If your understanding's clear. 

'Twas made in far-famed Athens, 
Aristotle was the man 

101 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Who first invented Logic; 
Now love him — if you can! 

Tis full of propositions 

And sylly — gisms rare, 

Of which we'll give some samples 

Sweet as music on the air. 

All men have two pedestals, 
A chicken has the same; 
So, every chick's your brother 
Unless perchance, he's lame. 

All ladies love an honest man 
And such an one is Green; 
Hence every lady in the land 
Must love him, as we've seen. 

If A is I and E is O 
And X and Z are Y 

Why, — any blunderbuss should know 
A School-girl must not cry! 

Chorus: 
O, Logic is the study, the study, the study, 
O, Logic is the study most learned and profound! 

Prof. Webster tried to keep his dignity, but Dr. 
Walker heartily led the laugh which greeted our sing- 
ing, and soon after better text books on Logic were 
introduced. Whenever I did "cut up" it was with 
some excellent object in view, as when I led four 
others in digging snow and packed ice from the side- 
walk and steps of a Professor who disliked manual la- 
bor, and the task lasting 'till long after midnight, laid 
me by with severe pain for three days, but the side- 

102 



COLLEGE DAYS 

walks were kept clean thenceforth. 

The next day after mother's recorded visit to 
Chicago she helped me write the following verses to be 
sung between scenes in a college drama. 

FINDING THE SUNSET. 

O., the beautiful gates of the sunset, 
Hung out on the western sky- 
Where the days lay down their brightness, 
And bathing in splendor, die! 

Sweet friends in the home of our childhood 
The gentle, the loving ones stand 
Gazing out as we enter life's wildwood 
In search of the sunset land. 

But soon do the meadows grow broader 
And rougher the paths where we stray, 
Less frequent the cool gushing fountains 
And the sunset seems farther away! 

Bye and bye in our sunset journey 
Young Love in his beauty appears; 
He plucks the harsh thorns from our roses, 
And half of our burdens he bears. 

Yet the floods of molten glory 
Which beam from the Sunset Land, 
Fill our hearts with a restless longing 
On those beautiful shores to stand. 

Our locks, once sunny and golden, 
Are white as the drifting snow; 
Our eyes have grown dim with their gazing 
And our footsteps are feeble and slow. 
103 



A PILGRIM MAID 

As we near the Eternal Splendor, 

We pause at a swelling stream. 

We must cross it ere reaching the hilltops 

Which glow in the sunset's beam. 

So closing our eyes for a moment 
In the sun's last dazzling ray, 
We open them tearless forever, 
In a land of perpetual Day. 

Mother wrote all of the first verse and suggested 
the others; were not the last two stanzas a prophecy? 






104 



CHAPTER XIV 
She Who Never Rested, Rests 

"Tired, so tired of the base, the untrue, 

Mother, O Mother! my heart turns to you. 

Tired of sowing for others to reap, 

Rock me to sleep, Mother, rock me to sleep!' 7 

March 12th 1868 ever remains a memorable date 
to me. On that day at six o'clock I ate my evening 
meal with my mother and at seven o'clock started for 
the college for the regular weekly rehersal of the 
church choir of which I was a member. 

Twice I started out, but returned with the re- 
mark, "I can't bear to go tonight somehow" "Why?" 
asked mother, "Guess I am afraid of the dark, coming 
home," I answered. "Someone will doubtless be with 
you; you'd better not be late" urged the unselfish 
mother. So, after two goodbyes I went out, mother 
standing at the east window watching me out of sight. 
On my way home accompanied by my close friend, 
Jessie Lynch, we met, not far from my door, my 
brother, who with white, set face said, "Is this you, 
Fannie? I'm looking for my sister," and laying a 
tender hand on me added "I've some sad words for 
you, Fannie." "O" I interrupted "Mother is sick 
isn't she? Let us hurry right home," for the awful 
probability must not be spoken. "No, sister," Frank 

105 



A PILGRIM MAID 

answered, "Mother never will be sick anymore, moth- 
er is dead!" 

I rent the night air with one awful cry, and my 
college class-mate, Chas. Blanchard, now, for many 
years his father's honored successor in the presidency, 
coming up the street aided me home. Kind neigh- 
bors had crowded in, and a doctor was vainly trying 
to restore life to the prostrate form. 

I learned that when Frank returned home from 
the city and found no mother at the doorway to greet 
him, he had hurried in to find no lights burning, and 
his supper partly set in a dark dining room. Light- 
ing a lamp he looked about to see his mother lying 
dead at his feet. Hurrying into the street he asked a 
man and woman to come in and help lift his mother's 
body, but so strange a light shone upon her white 
face, they dared not touch the still form, till others 
came. These others have told me of that beautiful 
light, and I remember it was still on her face when 
they laid her in her casket. To me it was not 
"strange." The doctor called in was a newcomer in 
town, a stranger to us all, and as he came from the 
room where they had lain her, he met me passing 
through the neighborly throng, with glaring eyes, cry- 
ing frantically to him, "If you don't bring my mother 
back I'll kill you!" Strong but tender hands drew me 
away, and later led me in to look at her whose love 
had never failed me, and as sure as God its Giver, is 
God, never will\ 

Dear, quiet, noble Frank! The star in his sky 
had indeed set, but for my sake he would be silent in 
his grief. Uncle William was telegraphed, and came 

106 



SHE WHO NEVER RESTED, RESTS 

at once, a stricken man, for indeed his truest friend 
had gone. He sobbed out his greeting to me, "The 
last time she spoke to me, she said "Be good to my 
children when I'm gone"-- and I told her I would count 
them as my own, and I'll keep my promise." 

Dear President Blanchard came down late that 
night to say his strong word of sympathy. 

It was decided that the least we could do for 
mother, would be to send her worn body back to lie 
by her husband's at the foot of the mountain, in the 
Shelburne Falls cemetery, Massachusetts. Dr. Gray 
was telegraphed to receive the sacred dust, and lay it 
to rest. President Blanchard was asked to speak a 
few words at the funeral services in the Wheaton Bap- 
tist Church, where mother's church letter was to have 
been presented the following Sabbath, for she was true 
to her church and religious convictions to the last. 
The words I chose for a text were favorite words of 
mother's as were Mrs. Browning's verses on the same, 
"For so He giveth His beloved sleep." I remember 
little of the sad services, save that at the close Frank 
and Uncle William led me to the casket, to look my 
last on 

"The face which duly as the sun 

Rose up for me with life begun, 
To mark each bright hour of the day 
With daily love," 
was now to be shut away from me, and as I cried in 
my agony, "You shall not take her away!" my uncle 
whispered in my ear "My child, try to be the woman 
your mother would wish you to be," and I became 
calm and turned away, ever since to try. 

107 



A PILGRIM MAID 

As we stood at the railway station waiting for the 
train which would bear that loved clay forever from 
our reach, student friends, now grandmothers, tell me 
that I wandered wildly from one group to another 
saying, "Can't you help me?" "Won't somebody do 
something to help me?" Only One could, and He 
mast help me His way. And I turned to the little 
cottage, remorse eating down into my heart, the re- 
morse some one has described as "the waking up of 
one-half the soul to find the other half lost." 



108 



CHAPTER XV. 
Motherless 

"How strange it seems with so much gone 
Of life and love, to still live on." 

The first motherless summer was spent by invita- 
tion of my lovely teacher on her father's farm a few 
miles from Howell^ Michigan, the home of H. H. 
Norton. 

The conscientious, prayerful, Bible-loving example 
of Miss Norton had a good influence on me. Leaving 
her chosen work as a teacher because of her mother's 
recent death, she spent the following months in heavy 
house work, in company with her very bright younger 
sister Frank, caring for an aged father, and several 
brothers, one of whom was an invalid; and surely, if 
one ever needed " daily strength for daily needs" it 
was my capable and gifted friend. For gifts are not 
graces, without which the most brilliant gifts or ac- 
complishments are not necessarily winsome. 

Each morning on awaking I heard Miss Norton's 
voice in an adjoining room, in quiet, earnest tones seek- 
ing divine aid and heavenly patience for the new day. 

If that household scattered now far and wide has 
developed character and wrought usefulness, let not 
that faithful sister's devotion and example be for- 
gotten. 

109 



A PILGRIM MAID 

We could not always have the weary horses on 
the Sabbath, to ride to the house of God; but each 
Sabbath we held a Bible study in the family sitting 
room led by "sister Helen. " 

Henry Norton was a young lawyer of much ability 
who had returned to the farm home with a severe in- 
curable malady, as he well knew, to die. It was hard 
for his admiring loved ones to see him slowly fade 
away from day to day, but he and they kept up good 
cheer. 

At the twilight hour he would say to me, "Now 
Miss Fannie, please sing/ 7 And often his sweet, low 
tones would join me in the singing of old time ballads, 
and church hymns which I pray may not die out of 
human memory, as the modern jingles and present rag- 
time music sadly threaten they shall. 

A pleasant, restful, comforting summer quickly 
passed. Shortly after mother went away, Uncle Wil- 
liam announced the return of his brother Baldwin, 
who for thirty years had been a wanderer on the face of 
the earth, while his sister and brother at home prayed 
for his welfare. It seemed hard that mother should 
go without again seeing the brother, part of whose 
youth had been spent in her first home. 

Uncle Baldwin was not a confessor of Christ, but 
proved an efficient helper to his brother in business, 
having acquired some means, and possessing a gener- 
ous disposition. 

He called on me at Wheaton and desired to aid 
me and wished I would prepare for the secular lecture 
platform, the stage or journalism. One day he offered 
me fifty dollars if I would write an article, choosing 

110 



MOTHERLESS 

my own theme, and send it to him for genuine criti- 
cism. Accepting the offer, I wrote eagerly. I soared 
into the ethereal blue, plunged into the mystical 
depths, appealed to the whichness of the what and the 
thisness of the that, and strewed literary flowers on 
every page. It was returned to me with many blue 
pencilings, and alas! opposite my very pet sentence 
was a large blue interrogation point. I wrote back to 
ask its significance. "That is an interrogation point," 
and means "what is this?" was the reply. "Truly, my 
dear niece, I'm frank to say, I do not know what that 
flowery phrase means, and allow me, I don't believe 
you do! Take it out!" 

After a week's rereading, much as I disliked to 
eliminate that flowery sentence, out it came. The 
fifty dollars came too, and I prize to this day the prac- 
tical help of my long ago critic more than any lessons 
in composition college teachers ever gave me. 

Uncle Baldwin died while I was at school leaving 
me a little property near Lincoln Park, which was in 
shape after I left school to aid me in my efforts to 
learn and do. It was my hope to realize from it a 
little amount to provide for my wants in my possibly 
lonely life, in old age, and Uncle Willam had the care 
of it at my request. Youth is hopeful, and cannot 
look far into its own future, so I thought little of the 
yalue of this gift I have since so bitterly needed, and 
it went down in the terrible real estate crash which 
swept away all my uncle's family called their own, 
and overwhelmed him, fighting against fearful odds of 
abuse and misunderstanding on the part of once trusted 
friends, till his heart broke, his spirit was crushed and 

111 



A PILGRIM MAID 

his death all too soon followed. He had ever relieved 
the suffering, comforted the desolate; and with a few 
former members of the Plymouth Congregational 
church of his city had founded the Lincoln Park 
Church of whose pastors he was the kind counselor 
and friend, while he lived, and his name is kept in 
fragrant memory by many who today rise up to call 
him benefactor. 

Returning to college duties from my summer in 
Michigan, I learned how bitterly hard is a motherless 
life. 

I kept on at school, being very frail, aided by re- 
ceipted tuition bills, now and then given at the insti- 
gation of Pres. Blanchard for "my correct deportment, 
good scholarship and in memory of the Chronicle/' 
but the mainspring of my endeavor was broken. I 
had no mother to rejoice with me, and to prove her- 
self thoroughly and personally interested in my strug- 
gles or successes. This has been the bitterness of the 
long years. I rented the cottage and awhile boarded 
with its occupants. Frank, a clerk in his uncle's real 
estate office could not bear the coming out at evening 
to the home no longer home, and boarded in the city. 

Having rented the cottage I went to room with 
Mary D. Bissell who was my devoted school mate for 
about two years. So began my first close, tender 
friendship and its memory is sacred. Renting with 
two others a common sitting room with two bed rooms 
across the hall, we tried to make a home in the old, 
somewhat dilapidated building at the foot of the 
Campus. For these were Wheaton's days of struggle, 
and the college had not attained to its present dormi- 

112 



^ 



MOTHERLESS 

tories and dining hall and the like. Mary was ex- 
tremely conscientious. Julia and Delia Whiting, the 
other two, were fine scholars, witty, energetic and sen- 
sible girls. Having been teachers for years in Joliet, 
they have now moved to Tacoma, Washington, where 
they own their home and have been teaching for years ; 
for "westward the star of empire takes its way." Of 
course they would, go that way. 



113 



CHAPTER XVI 
I Became a Tither 

4 'The giver is greater than any man 

That ever drew sword in war : 
I reckon him nobler than king or khan, 

Nobler and better by far. 
For wisest is he in this whole broad land, 

Of hoarding till bent and gray; 
For all you can hold in your cold, dead hand 

Is what you have given away." 

In school days I learned my first lesson in the use 
of means, as God's steward, and hereby insert my now 
well distributed Tract on the subject designated — a 
bit of my college days' experience, entitled 
WHY I TITHE MY INCOME. 

It was when a college girl that this truth of my 
partnership with the Lord came home to my soul. I 
yielded intellectually and spiritually to the logic of 
the Bible teaching, and informed my Christian room- 
mate of my new-born purpose. 

Mary looked a little sober, and said, "Well, I 
won't stand in your way, but you have no health, and 
are not likely to have much to tithe. Be sure you're 
right, then go ahead." 

I was pretty sure, so I said: "Here's my earthly 
all at the present hour— twenty-five cents. I'll begin 
on that. I'll call this tenth three whole cents. Here's 

114 



I BECAME A TITHER 

an old pocket book to hold it. I've launched forth 
on the sea of my newly discovered duty." 

The next Sabbath I heard a call for a Missionary 
contribution. It was humiliating to put in but three 
cents, but in they went, and with more prayer than 
ever the mission cause had had before from my young- 
heart. 

I earned but very little money each week, and 
tithing it did seem a trial for a time, but I prayed 
earnestly for the approval of the Master and the visi- 
ble assurance of it among my mates, for the honor of 
His truth. 

One day things looked very serious, financially, 
and Mary said: "Are you sure, dear, that you ought 
to have given that last offering?" 

Now, Mary was generous indeed, but was deeply 
concerned for my prosperity. I went down on my 
knees for a few minutes, and then hurried to the post 
office. There I found a letter from an old friend of 
my mother's, saying she had often wondered how I 
was getting on, and had been led to enclose a check 
for $25.00 to help me in my schooling, and stopping 
at the store I tithed the gift in the purchase of an 
article Mary very much needed, as my visible proof 
that the Lord meant me to tithe. My friend tearfully 
rejoiced with me, and ever after she encouraged me 
in all true and holy plans for my Lord's box. Later 
this gift was twice repeated. Do you wonder that 
when I taught school my salary was tithed, or that 
when I became a gospel evangelist I continued to 
tithe my income? 

As I have prayerfully avoided all money-raising 
115 



A PILGRIM MAID 

schemes in my work. I have had a comparatively 
small income, but I have been able to help boys and 
girls in school, to give to foreign and home missions 
and reforms of different sorts, and to many needy in- 
dividuals—and always without the resistance and a 
sense of unwillingness I once felt. In truth, when a 
friend found by some accident that I had no income 
beyond that of my gospel labors, she cried, "Why the 
general impression in the state is that you are 
wealthy." "Why?" I asked. " Because you have 
something to give, on most occasions, and you do it 
without hesitancy." 

A man may give systematically but not propor- 
tionately. John Jones may offer God a tithe of his 
income at twenty years of age, which tithe may be one 
dollar a week. If he prospers, at thirty he may still, 
systematically, be giving but one dollar a week. 

Proportionately he should give as his tithe one- 
tenth of, say, forty dollars a week. Even then, the 
proportion should ever be "as God has prospered," in 
addition to simple tithes, which are God's own right. 
"The tithe is the Lord's." Lev. 27:30. 

"But the poor tithe of my income would be so 
little," says some honest soul. 

If the tithes of even our church members' net 
income went into the Lord's treasury, we could be 
done with fairs, money-making suppers, and a thou- 
sand misnamed services for the Lord's honor. The 
Vow of Jacob, if adopted by Protestant Christendom, 
would pay America's church debts and send the Gospel 
as a witness to all the needy millions of the old world 
and the opening isles of the sea, support the city slum - 

116 



I BECAME A TITHER 

workers, and in a short time hasten the coming of the 
King. 

We may glory less over large gifts from the wealthy 
and be more sure of God's approval of the proportion- 
ate and systematic giving of His poor, if we work this 
little problem in arithmetical proportion herewith sub- 
mitted : 

Five hundred dollars is to seventy-five thousand 
dollars as one dollar is to X. 



$500.00 


$75,000 


$1.00 


X 


Poor 


Rich 


Poor man's 


Or the rich 


man's 


man's 


offering 


man's propor- 


income 


income 


to some 


tionate offering 


yearly 


yearly 


good cause 


to same cause 



So mathematics assures us: Where your poor man 
with a yearly income of five hundred dollars gives one 
dollar to any good cause, your rich friend, with a year- 
ly income of seventy-five thousand, should give one 
hundred and fifty dollars. 

Scripture plans lead to equalization. Read II 
Corinthians, eighth chapter, very carefully, and see 
Paul's meaning in the 13-15 verses. Equalization! 
"Not that other men be eased and ye burdened." 
Does not that sound comforting? Would it not pre- 
vent a church from boasting of its generosity? — as, for 
example, one church did, which raised $1,100 for a 
good cause, $600 of which was paid by one man, $300 
by one woman, and the other $200 "scattering" as 
they say, all in a church of 500 members! In a very 
small church a long advertised offering was gathered 
amounting to $10.50. Of this amount the pastor gave 
$2, a family of four sisters $6, and $2.50 was raised by 

117 



A PILGRIM MAID 

other fifty members. 

If the vow of at least a tenth of every Christian's 
net income were offered as his just obligation to God, 
think you we would see repeated the awful and blas- 
phemous spectacle of fairs, secular exhibits, and other 
money-raising appeals and schemes, and all "for the 
benefit of the church" or "young people's society?" 
Think you there is no demand for a real, genuine twen- 
tieth century crusade of our young men and women 
against the too common sin (I can call it no less) which 
truly enlightened souls are deploring and the most irre- 
ligious worldings are denouncing even more intensely? 

My thought is not to do away with social gather- 
ings and occasions of glad, mirthful, happy reunions, 
often with refreshments, sometimes without, but to 
eradicate from these all the mercenary element which 
we deplore and set them free from the spirit and pur- 
pose which gave Dr. Gordon his characteristic name 
for the evil he so strikingly decried as "the modern 
cook-stove apostasy." 

System and proportion in giving will yet prove 
the principles that should permeate our missionary 
efforts and elevate our standards of benevolence and 
deliver us from the taunt of our enemies.. 

The soul who has learned that he is the Lord's 
steward and accepts this truth is the Lord's noble- 
man! 

If our young church members would thus learn in 
the days of their youth the lesson of system and pro- 
portion in Christian benevolence, what joy would ac- 
cumulate for them through the on-coming years, what 
larger offerings would speed the coming of our King! 

118 



CHAPTER XVII. 
A Love Story With a Moral 

" Women are women, and one of their charms is that 
nobody knows what they are going to do next." 

It soon became apparent that sufficient health 
would not be long mine to continue the frequent climbs 
up the College Campus, the imperfect food furnished 
in those days at boarding clubs, and the ever deepen- 
ing longing for my mother. All were telling on a con- 
stitution much weakened by the Southern Illinois ex- 
periences hitherto herein recorded, and those that 
followed too fast thereupon. 

Financial need added its voice to the growing in- 
ward call to teach. The graded school of Wheaton 
was then in a sadly undeveloped state; its present 
buildings were then but a dream ; I had no experience 
in that sort of teaching, but I applied in common with 
several others, all of us passing a wretched examina- 
tion in the common branches, a certificate coming only 
to me with the humbling statement signed by the 
County Superintendent, that I "deserved it by virtue 
of my examination in general no more than the others; 
but because of the peculiar originality of my written 
answers, and my orphan state, it was hereby sent" 
to me. 

Had I not on my knees urgently prayed that I 
119 



A PILGRIM MAID 

might secure this position? Was mother's life-habit 
to be of no meaning to her now appreciative child? 

Later I was bidden to appear with a school teacher 
from the country and undergo a competitive examina- 
tion before the school board on the "Theory and Prac- 
tice of Teaching" of which I knew nothing, on "Oral 
Teaching as compared with previous methods," of 
which I knew less. 

I plunged in, and what I didn't know I guessed 
at, and filled up the time with writing my own Theory 
of Teaching, expecting the Practice to come later if I 
gained the desired position. 

Finally they asked me some learned questions 
about the multiplication table which so frightened me 
I could not repeat the two's. At length the Board 
formed itself into a reading class, handed a book to 
me and said, "Let us see if you can teach a reading 
class how to read." 

This august Board, be it remembered, was com- 
posed of several members of the college faculty, two 
learned farmers, and the Superintendent of Schools. 
Desperately seizing and opening the book (each mem- 
ber of my improvised class held awkardly and amused- 
ly, a similar copy) I addressed Dr. Webster, professor 
of Belles letters and Rhetoric, from the college. As I 
had been bidden "now be natural, and easy, and think 
we are a class of boys," I began, "Johnnie, rise; What 
to your mind is the main thought of this piece we are 
to read?" A shout burst from the class, for was not 
Prof. Webster's full name John Calvin Webster? To 
fully carry out my suggested naturalness I rebuked 
the "unseemly levity" and sent the boys to their 

120 



A LOVE STORY WITH A MORAL 

seats. But I received the desired position. 

I continued teaching, keeping up my membership 
in the old Aelioian Society of the college, teaching my 
class of boys in the Sunday School, hearing President 
Blanchard and after a time Dr. James B. Walker in 
Sabbath sermons long to be remembered for their 
depth and practical suggestions; yet daily I felt the 
need of physical strength and that I must get stronger 
as I had my own bread to earn. If I could only 
writel How I wanted some older, wiser friend to sug- 
gest the right path to literary success, to restrain me 
from unwise plannings and self-satisfied conceits! 

One of my correspondents was a studious young 
lawyer with whom I had, with my mother's consent 
exchanged letters for a year or tw r o on books, art, 
literature and kindred themes. These letters stirred 
anew my literary longings till they received an unex- 
pected blow in the young man's sudden and unlooked- 
for proposal of marriage! I was so young, so uncer- 
tain, and I had no teacher of whom I felt at all like 
asking advice. Had mother been still alive she would 
probably have told me that my very uncertainty was 
answer enough to my heart's question; and as it was, 
I did have judgment enough of my own to politely re- 
fuse the offer on the ground that my ideas of mar- 
riage were so sacred and implied so much of oneness of 
feeling, principles and aims that no one on whose face 
I had never looked might pursue the subject farther; 
and I demanded that our correspondence at once cease. 
It did cease for a time, until one morning a messenger 
from the hotel brought to my boarding place a brief 
note bearing the compliments of my friend, who had 

121 



A PILGRIM MAID 

just arrived in town, and begged "as early an interview" 
as I could "conveniently name." So at three o'clock 
that afternoon we met, talked of our deceased parents, 
our past, and our mutual likes and dislikes, but agreed 
that during the week which the gentleman should 
spend in Wheaton till the day of his departure, no 
word must pass his lips concerning the subject of his 
errand. We visited, walked, talked, became some- 
what acquainted, in a way, during those probationary 
days, but uppermost in his thoughts, and occasion- 
ally inadvertently upon his tongue, was the theme of 
his visit, and just as surely was I aware that I was ex- 
pected to try to love a man "to order," — an attempt 
that seemed to me unnatural and useless. 

Finally after a bitter hour of persistent, ardent, 
purposeful pleading on his part and a sense of relief on 
mine that it must soon cease, I sent my friend back 
to his lovely, womanly sister who, later, said to me, 
"If you, under the circumstances had accepted my 
brother, and he had come home triumphant instead of 
crushed and disappointed, / should have been disap- 
pointed in you." 

Victor Hugo says "Man has sight, woman in- 
sight," and Lizzie's insight was a comfort to me. 

Months after as the summer approached bringing 
the query "where shall I go, when all the others are 
going home?" an invitation from kind, practical, 
motherly Mrs. P. B. Gaylord of Hoyleton urged me to 
come to her peach farm for the summer. Could I go? 
Only six miles from the home of my recent wooer? 
Would it seem indelicate? For some reasons I wished 
to go to the old scenes. For others I hesitated. Then 

122 



A LOVE STORY WITH A MORAL 

came a note from the refused gentleman himself say- 
ing that Mrs. G. who knew nothing of his feeling for 
me, or that we had ever met had told him of her in- 
vitation; and he asked u asa drowning man clings to 
a straw," that I recall one thing I had said to him at 
our parting — "had I met you, in a natural way, been 
where I beheld your daily coming and going among 
your own neighbors and your own kin, seen you as I 
saw others with perhaps similar hopes, I might have 
more than liked you; but I can't marry you, now, on 
a plea which my reason and my heart alike refuse." 
And then he urged that I make this visit, put him in- 
to the same category with other neighboring young 
men, mark his daily behavior and let him run the risk 
of my later decision. 

After some mental strife I accepted Mrs. G's in- 
vitation realizing indeed that I too was running a risk. 
Circumstances having given me the needed opportun- 
ity to quietly study this man, before I was aware 
Love walked forth upon the surging waves of my af- 
fectionately intense spirit and said, "Peace! Be still!" 
An orphan, homeless, frail in health, I rested upon the 
strong love of this man, eight years older than my- 
self, as an abiding rock. To me he soon came to be 
father, brother, friend, and lover in one. 

The peach orchard in which we strayed, telling 
our story of love and planning for the future, was a 
scene of glory in the early days of our betrothal, and 
after weeks had sped, the fruitage of that orchard was 
ripe and luscious. 

The day of our marriage drew near. Gifts from 
far and near bespoke the loving interest of many 

123 



A PILGRIM MAID 

friends. We sang together the songs with which we 
meant to dedicate our home, and a sweet thought in 
the planning of that home was that we there might 
shelter the weary and minister to those who, as we 
had been, were homeless. 

Only four days more! The fruit had all gone 
from the peach trees. Hints of autumn were all about 
us. We must wait for the far-off springtime for the 
peach blossoms to come again, but the winter would 
not be lonely. 

A rival, a drinking man, hung around, now and 
then, stirring the antipathy of my dignified and per- 
fectly upright lover to almost the semblance of jeal- 
ousy. How I laughed, teased, promised and— pre- 
pared! 

But, the man I have been telling you of, in that 
supreme hour of my life, disappeared from the scenes 
of my existance as suddenly as the falling of a thunder 
bolt from a clear sky. Thirty-five years have passed, 
and in all that time I have never looked upon his 
face, but I shall, some day. I look over every audi- 
ence I address before I speak, lest he be there. I 
never sit down in a car or at a hotel table that I do 
not watch for him. 

You ask, why did he go? For long years I did 
not know. Then in a western city I came upon one 
who had known us both and who said, "Do you not 
recall the drunken man toward whom your accepted 
lover cherished such a mortal antipathy? Well, in an 
intoxicated state some years after your youthful sor- 
row, that miserable fellow made a strange boast to 
some neighbors, of his ability to clear up the mystery 

124 



3* iir- 




FRANCES E. TOWNSLEY 

At 20 Years of Age. 



A LOVE STORY WITH A MORAL 

of your youth. Strong hands throttled him, men 
threatened his life unless he explained himself." And 
then — think of it — there came the story of the foul 
lie he had told my lover just after I last talked with 
him — a lie so foul and more — so peculiarly false, and, 
withal of such seeming possibility that my lover felt 
perfectly justified in retracting in a moment an avowed 
love, and going from my sight without an explanation 
or an excuse. 

To toss three weeks in a feverish delirium of un- 
rest, to rise and go back alone to Chicago and to 
Wheaton, to be called by his name on the street by 
friends innocently supposing me to be on my wedding 
journey, to reship gifts to friends east and west, to ex- 
plain as best I could, to plan for my future and forget 
my past were no easy tasks for a girl just twenty years 
old. Life has never meant anything very easy for me 
thus far. Why did I need this strange and bitter ex- 
perience? For I must confess, right here, that I be- 
came very bitter for a while. Later, God's incoming 
spirit swept the bitterness all out, and I have seen why 
this was best for me in many respects Certainly I 
believe it was better for that man. However honor- 
able his motives or pure his purpose I can now realize 
that a form of selfishness not uncommon, dominated 
him, which rendered it impossible for him to under- 
stand me fully, or see the necessity of shielding a 
young, inexperienced girl from keen, humiliating suf- 
fering; yet he knew me well enough to feel sure that 
should he break the seal of silence on his lips and tell 
me what he had so recently come to believe true, my 
sense of outraged honor and self-respect would banish 

125 



A PILGRIM MAID 

him from my sight. Long busy years have passed; he 
early found solace in another's love and has lived, I 
know, a useful life. Children have clustered around 
his knees and I am very glad for all he has come to 
possess. 

I have never seen him since, but some day I shall. 
I'm traveling on to that hour when my soul shall chal- 
lenge his and I shall bid him look in my face and know 
that I am, ever was, and ever shall be, all which he 
had thought me to be. My life-mission will not end 
until that time. 

And now you know the license which sorrow has 
writ in large letters for me to preach, as I do so earn- 
estly, against every shade of falsehood, bidding men 
tell no lie, however tiny and seemingly harmless, or 
black and heavy it may be. A liar can never be 
trusted; he will smile in your face and smite you un- 
der the fifth rib. "Falsehood," says Dean Farrar, 
"respects no altar, regards no oath, abides by no sac- 
ramental bond." 

And again, in the face of all seeming proof, be- 
lieve in your loved ones until you know them guilty 
beyond a doubt. Look upon jealousy as the blackest, 
bluest, greenest imp from the lowest pit of perdition. 
Remembering that while neither father, brothers or 
lover ever drank a drop of liquor, the saloon and its 
curse devastated my young life, I bid young men and 
women vow, VOW eternal hatred to the traffic which 
degrades citizenship, brutalizes men, makes friends of 
women, and shatters the hopes of life's morning, cloud- 
ing its sunset with blackness of the outer darkness 
of hell. 

126 



A LOVE STORY WITH A MORAL 

No womanly soul can pass through such an ex- 
perience as was mine, however grateful for its lessons 
she may afterwards become, without feeling the truth 
of a recent writer's words; " Experience is going through 
a thing yourself, and having it go through you. And — 
not as a spear is thrust into ones body, piercing it, but 
as a fire goes through that which it takes hold of, per- 
meating it, as an odor goes through a house pervading 
it, — Experience is weaving fact into the fabric of your 
life. The swift drive of the double-pointed shuttle, 
the hard push of the loom back and forth goes through 
you.^ 

God's permitted chastening afterward yieldeth 
the peaceable fruit of righteousness to them that are 
exercised thereby— not that look on and are sorry; 
thank God for the divine afterward. 



127 



CHAPTER XVIII. 
The Michigan Ague 

•'Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom, 
Sometime where Eden's bowers bloom, 

By waters still, o'er troubled sea, 

Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me." 

I finally secured another position as teacher, and 
frailer than before worked on in the graded school; 
later I taught private classes; served as college librar- 
ian, and devoted my time to special studies. 

Meanwhile dear Frank developed symptoms of 
tuberculosis, and our uncle appealed to me to prove 
myself a true sister by helping Frank in a new struggle 
for life; his idea was for us to rent a small fruit farm 
near St. Joseph, Mich., where I was to take care of 
the home, the hired man and the fruit, and especially 
my brother. 

Few knew how my heart yearned over the only 
one left me, and I at once avowed my willingness to 
make the proposed endeavor, and to leave my chosen 
pursuits to become a housekeeper, though I frankly 
wrote my uncle "It will prove a failure; neither Frank 
nor I have the physical strength for the undertaking. " 

We went. A dear school friend, Delia Whiting 
with a homeless vacation before her accepted my in- 
vitation, furnishing me a most skillful bread maker, 

12S 



THE MICHIGAN AGUE 

and a loving efficient companion. I wonder if in Ta- 
coma where she and her sister Julia have taught for 
seventeen years, she ever recalls the scenes of that 
summer. 

It was all new and strange and trying when we 
arrived at the farm; the hired men and our neighbors 
were wondering "what kind of a housekeeper that blue 
stocking sister of poor Mr. Townsley would make." 

We breakfasted at six, I rose at five to have time 
for communion with my blessed Lord, and seek each 
day's victory over a quick temper and irritability 
which must not be manifested before the hired men, or 
my brother, not then an avowed confessor of Christ. 
I knew Frank liked graham gems and that graham 
flour and (not too much) soda, with sour cream of 
which I had a plenty, were needed ingredients, and I 
tossed these with a few others together and behold 
they were very good. It came natural for me to cook 
meats and vegetables but in cake making I was almost 
a failure. My impetuous haste was against my success 
and frequently careless openings of the oven door gen- 
erally caused my cake, like many another expensive 
project to fall never to rise again. 

Day by day it seemed impressed upon me that 
we ought to acknowledge God in our home at least by 
returning thanks at the table. I left a note on my 
brother's dressing table suggesting this. No attention 
was paid to it for a few days. But one noon at din- 
ner when I jocosely reminded Frank that he was the 
head of the house and must make us ail mind, he took 
the waited for opportunity to remind me that I was the 
mistress of the house, and therefore whatever I desired 

129 



A PILGRIM MAID 

within doors must be " which answers your note" he 
added, "but you must attend to the matter." So I 
said "Well boys, I'd like a blessing at our family ta- 
ble, let us return thanks," and asked a blessing every 
meal after, which I did not find easy with the hired 
help and, occasionally, visitors from the city. Yet 
the Father helped me, and one noon on the porch a 
hired man said to me with tears in his eyes "I'm glad 
you ask a blessing, Miss Townsley. It's the first re- 
ligious thing I've seen or heard in two years. My par- 
ents are Christians, and I — used — to be — a professor — 
myself," and (as a lump came into his throat) "I'm 
glad you're here." Even thus came the unlooked for 
reward. 

Did I overwork? Necessarily. The days went by 
and blessed be the name of the Lord I did not get cross. 
Did I not miss church and my Sunday School boys 
and congenial society? Yes, but was I not making a 
home for my brother? To make a home for somebody, 
to comfort some needy one, to protect the unprotect- 
ed is the woman instinct the world over. Whether 
that needy and uncared for individual is a wee baby, 
a canary bird, or a maltese kitten. So, as Frances 
Willard said, "The woman question is the human ques- 
tion, on a large scale." In her words "We must seek 
to make the world a larger home." 

It proved a hot summer, when after canning a 
bushel or less of fruit one day, which at any hour might 
be brought in, a trifle too ripe to ship to market, but 
never to be wasted, and finishing a large washing, I 
mopped the kitchen and porch floors, wet my feet, 
strained my weak back and sat down at four in the 

130 



THE MICHIGAN AGUE 

afternoon aching in every bone and soon began to 
shake strangely. Delia called my brother who tersely 
announced his opinion, "Michigan ague." At six o'clock 
I crawled into bed. Have I ever had a fever? Yes, 
that day! Such a hot and mighty one till day break 
as was repeated after a daily shaking and aching for 
several weeks. 

The morning after that first fever my brother start- 
ed for an ague specialist, and the big doctor said, 
"Worst form of malarial ague; take twenty-four grains 
of this quinine every day." I obeyed, till I indeed 
saw visions and dreamed dreams, and really thought 
my latter days had come. What the quinine left of 
me came back to its normal state after many days, 
but 0, how weak! 

One evening came a telegram from our uncle say- 
ing that he and his wife and her daughter and a gentle- 
man from Massachusetts would arrive on the next 
morning's boat from Chicago to breakfast with us. 
Delia had done everything for me and the boys so far, 
but I then bade Frank start post-haste for a hired 
girl. He found one who would come and work till I 
recovered strength, if she might go home every other 
day to have her shake. She came, she saw, she con- 
quered our difficulties. One day, well, having to go 
home for her shakes the next, Mary proved herself the 
very help needed in our emergency, and I thank her 
for her faithfulness this far away day. 

My breakfast party arrived and as I tottered to 
meet them and fell into Uncle William's extended 
arms, it was a comfort to hear him say "Brave girl! 
She's tried her best ; but I ought to have known better!" 

131 



A PILGRIM MAID 

So, as we were both losing strength, we closed up 
this honest attempt at a home and 1 who so young 
had begun the homeless life before me, wrote my loved 
Miss Norton for permission to come once more to the 
Howell farm. This was kindly granted. What it 
meant to leave my frail helpless brother in that ram- 
bling old house to close up the place, and return to 
the Chicago office, only the Divine Father knows. But 
in early fall, 

— "Autumn laying day by day 

His fiery finger on the leaves/' — 
I went to my friends who were erecting a fine com- 
modious dwelling, while we temporarily occupied the 
"carriage house", and many were the pleasant hours 
we passed together. The family shared with me their 
comforts, their tasks and their friends, one of whom 
must ever hold a sacred place in my heart, — Nell Marsh 
of Howell, later Mrs. George B. Lake of Topeka, Kan- 
sas, and in her widowhood the editorial helper of Dr. 
Mary Wood -Allen, once Publisher of that marvel- 
ous magazine 'The American Mother." 

NelFs poetic temperament and intense love of the 
beautiful in nature and in art strongly appealed to me. 
I ought to have proven to her a more practical, strong- 
er and uplifting friend, than I did. 

The selfishness of our affections, rises up often be- 
fore us in the years that come and go to upbraid us 
for what we "might have been J 1 

Leaving the busy work at St. Joseph which had 
for months largely occupied hands and heart I found 
a returning wave of desolation sweeping over me and 
though I did not mean to brood, yet as the winter 

132 



THE MICHIGAN AGUE 

drew on, sleep fled from my eyes and slumber from my 
eye-lids; the horror of all I had suffered came down 
on me like a dense, black cloud and ere long I became 
morbidly, selfishly, wickedly desperate. Would it be 
wrong to end it all? The temptation grew plausible. 
Half sick, impecunious, untrained, who would long 
miss me? I thought of various methods of getting rid 
of my life, but was held back by the fear that I might 
not thereby get rid of myself. The sense of present 
uselessness and possible future helplessness was largely 
the result of the sudden breaking up of every life-plan 
leaving me barren of purpose and bitterly bereft. 

The physician called in admitted that he could 
"not minister to a mind diseased," and said that I 
needed some strong, new motive power which his 
materia rnedica could not betstow. 

Through all these days, now and then flitted new 
desires which took no shape, longings for the utterance 
of — what? Not yet w T as any definite aim mine; I read 
much in my teacher's library, studied some, but lacked 
the main-spring of purpose, the aim without which life 
is merely a visionary and unsatisfied existence. 

Did I still hold to my Savior? Rather, He held 
to me. At the beginning of the winter Miss Norton 
suggested that I teach the country school in the dis- 
trict. It had sometimes been taught by scholarly 
friends of hers from distant seats of learning, while 
they had been visiting the family, and had been in 
this especially favored. "O, I couldn't get a certifi- 
cate authorizing me to teach the common English 
branches/' I expostulated. "Were it a place to teach 
Latin, Advanced Mathematics or Greek I think I'd 

133 



A PILGRIM MAID 

apply tomorrow. " She kindly urged me on and a 
daring plan was soon forming in my venturesome soul. 

One day when my "guide, philosopher and friend" 
went to town where she would meet the County Su- 
perintendent of schools, I sent him a sealed note en- 
larging on my rare privileges as a former pupil of Miss 
Norton, on my great desire to teach this one country 
school; on my knowledge of the higher studies, but my 
fear to risk an examination on the "three R's" on 
which a few weeks' teaching would doubtless set me 
right, and assuring him that he might visit my school 
any day, and if he saw fit might take away my cer- 
tificate, which would he please send me immediately. 

He answered sending me what I had sought. 
Afterward he asked Miss Norton about the audacious 
young woman in her home, stating that she might be 
frail and unexperienced as a country school teacher, 
but surely a box of ginger, a paper of tacks and a 
small driving wheel belonged to her coat of arms! 

I taught three months, earned one hundred and 
twenty dollars and, be it gratefully remembered — was 
not allowed to pay a cent for my board or care in the 
dear home that sheltered me those preparatory months. 
Yes, I was again at some sort of work. 



134 



CHAPTER XIX. 
A Call—Its Answer 

4 'Love may be gone or clouded — But there is always work, 

and work is glorious. 7 ' 
"G-et out of your own shadow and let the sun pass." 

A recent story echoes the unspoken cry of my 
spirit in the days of that crucial period, "If I could 
only really care, heart and soul, for anything for one 
short month, I would give the rest of my life for it." 
Yes, to care, to feel, to desire! for working without, 
is worse than pouring water through a seive. 

One eventful day my tender hearted Nell visited 
my busy school room. After I had conducted the 
morning's devotional exercises and given a black board 
lesson in history, she asked me out under the trees 
and with shining eyes and reverent face, said, "I have 
a revelation for you, Fannie; may I dare tell it to 
you?" 

I saw her reverent sincerity and bade her continue. 
"Dear, I am convinced that you are to preach the 
everlasting Gospel of our precious Lord!" she said. I 
gasped forth, "I?— a woman?" "Yes, indeed!" "Are 
you crazy? You — an ardent — Episcopalian?" I stam- 
mered. Nell replied, "I am not responsible for what 
has been revealed to me sitting in your school-room. 
Do not smile. You are yet to declare God's truth, 

135 



A PILGRIM MAID 

far and near, and some day, somewhere, I shall hear 
you!" 

Little more was said then, but as she went home 
my dear friend said, "Think, pray, plan, but surrender 
to the vision that comes through me. In three weeks 
I shall return. Meet me with some definite purpose 
born of this day's visit." 

If a flash of light from the opening heavens had 
burst upon me the effect would have been little more 
vivid or impressive. I walked home to think, to won- 
der, to pray and to "be silent unto my God." 

For days I went about in a strange dazed wonder 
as to what God was about to do with me. I distrust- 
ed my friends vision, I saw every obstacle to its reali- 
zation, but a great cry after God rose in my heart, 
and at last I prayed, "Take away the horror, the 
doubts, the heart-ache, and let me see Thee. Thou art 
better than work— than visions, 'THOU CHRIST 
ART ALL I WANT: " 

After this cry why did such a new bouyancy take 
possession of me? Why did I wake every morning 
with a new hope that I might have something to do 
in this needy, hungry world? 

Why did the unspoken desires within me begin to 
take such strange shapes? Why did my thoughts be- 
gin to go out of self to wander through fields where 
waved the blossoms of service, helpfulness and unself- 
ishness, fragrant with the joy, not of being cared for, 
honored and protected, — not that any more — but the 
very joy of the Lord, the joy of protecting, healing, 
blessing many others? Why did the world of nature 
take on such wondrous beauty? 

136 



A CALL— ITS ANSWER 

Why did the atmosphere long so heavy and damp 
that to breathe was torture, seem the bracing air of a 
new heaven on earth? Why did all the bitterness go 
out of my soul, and into its place steal a prayer that I 
might sometime bless everybody who had ever hurt 
me? 

Why did the memory of past privileges, a mother's 
Bible teaching, a thousand experiences once so mys- 
terious and some of them so unusual, now seem to 
weave together into the warp and woof of my new 
purpose to take my friend's suggestion and use my 
gifts of writing and speaking in teaching what I knew 
and should yet learn of God's word and spirit and 
grace for men? 

Why did the obstacles to such a course for a 
young woman, then ten times as numerous and as 
mighty as today, vanish before my thought as I heard 
again and again the word "Fear not, for I am with 
thee; be not dismayed for I am thy God." Why came 
the intense longing to tell discouraged young people 
who had in vain tried to be christians, the reason for 
their failure, seen through my own to be the lack of a 
vital connection with the personal Lord and Christ? 

Words cannot tell the questions, the answers, or 
the consolations that were mine, even before my friend 
Nell returned to ask my decision. The way into such 
a life as I have since lived was, on the human side, ap- 
parently blocked. No theological seminaries of the 
Congregational order were then open to women. But 
the question of sex did not bother me. It never has. 

The Bible verses in which Paul wrote some mes- 
sages apparently silencing woman, if rightly translat- 

137 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ed and interpreted, must be in accord with other words 
of the same apostle endorsing Persis, for example, 
"who labored much in the Lord/ 7 and Phoebe in her 
mission to the church at Rome as a servant (deacon- 
ess) of the church at Cenchrea, and Prisca, wife of 
Aquilla, named before her husband, as a fellow- work- 
er whom "all the churches of the Gentiles" were thank- 
ing with Paul, for her self-sacrificing service in the 
cause of the faith. (Rom. 16:1-5.) Junias (Junia) in 
the same connection was named as Paul's fellow-pris- 
oner, for then as now women might go to prison in 
common with their brother-martyrs and though I too, 
like Junia, might go to some sort of dungeon, I was 
not afraid. 

To make Christ real to "men, to declare the Fath- 
er's purpose in sending Him, to enforce the truth that 
all who will may "see and hear, and understand" — 
that, as S. D. Gorden puts it in Quiet Talks about Je- 
sus, "the hinge of the eye-lids is in the will"— this was 
my purpose. And the need of regeneration, had this 
not been revealed to me in my own previous gropings 
after God? Had I not learned that one made in the 
image of God, could not get back to God-likeness by 
himself? 

So I carefully wrote out my first sermon. I did 
not choose for my text, "Go stand in the temple,— 
and declare all the words of this life,"— for I had no 
idea whether I should stand or sit, in a temple or a 
sod-house, on a platform or a tree-stump, when this 
sermon should be called for. 

It was not on "Let your women keep silence in 
the churches/' for I had been teaching young men in 

138 



A CALL— ITS ANSWER 

Sunday School, and singing in the choir at the top of 
my voice for a number of years. Neither was it on 
the much-abused words, "Open thy mouth wide and I 
will fill it." I knew these words had nothing to do 
with preaching to well-read, cultured men and wom- 
en; and w r ere I addressing a group of high way men 
and slum dwellers, the dullest of all would know that 
I was not prepared to teach them the things of God 
by simply opening my mouth. But I took for m}^ 
first sermon text, "And because they had no root they 
withered away," and my theme was concerning the 
three following heads: 

1. The Religion of Nature. 

2. The Religion of Emotion. 

3. The Religion of Regeneration. 

Mine, I admit, was not a question of duty so 
much as one of privilege. A grateful love pouring it- 
self through my entire being must find its way out 
over the bare wastes and desolate shores of other 
needy lives. Could not this be God's way of leading 
me? I had already hoped to teach. Why might I 
not teach the gospel? The light had begun to shine, 
I would follow it, and so surely as Merlin's "Young 
Mariner" saw a ray 

"Not of the sunlight 
Not of the moonlight 
Nor of the starlight," 
and heard the cry 

"O, young mariner 

Down in the haven under the sea-cliff, 
Call your companions, 
Launch your vessel, 
And crowd your canvass,"-- 
139 



A PILGRIM MAID 

So, catching the newly given light, would I, 
"Ere it should vanish 

Over the margin, 
After it! follow it! 
FOLLOW THE GLEAM." 
So, when my friend returned it was to hear me 
say, "Whether it is to preach, that is Ho proclaim, to 
herald forth/ or to wash pots and kettles, to tell peo- 
ple how to accept Christ, or to count decimal fractions, 
I shall obey the Voice and follow the inner light." 

But if I were to teach truth I myself must be 
saturated with that truth. So my Bible with every 
exegetical help I could lay hands upon was studied, 
yes, studied in that Michigan farm-house for three 
months. I borrowed every theological volume which 
teachers, preachers and theologians would loan me, 
enjoying them as I never had any other books. 



140 



CHAPTER XX. 
My First Sermon 

"I will not shut me from my kind 

And lest I stiffen into stone 
I will not eat my heart alone 

Nor feed with sighs a passing wind." 

As I prepared to leave the loved friends at the 
Howell farm Miss Norton's kind suggestions and ex- 
pressions of sincere regard were not unappreciated; 
her own busy fingers remade my none too expensive 
wardrobe; she told me of her earlier Christian life and 
her years at Mt. Holyoke, and though she saw not with 
Nell Marsh my possible call to public ministry, assur- 
ing me once that I was, "simply a fool to think of such 
a thing, with no seminary training, no health, no in- 
fluential backing," yet I have since held meetings in 
that old district school house with her endorsement 
and blessing, and preached in the Baptist church of 
Howell also in her presence and that of the good Dr. 
Livingston who, long ago could not cure me; and have 
seen responsive tears flow from their eyes and those 
of other listeners who, once (and who could blame 
them?) had no faith in the prophecy of "Visionary 
Nell" who stood her ground as loyally and bravely as 
did Joan of Arc when she heard her "voices" and ut- 
tered her message concerning her King. 

And Miss Norton has since stood in my own pul- 
pit in her loved Michigan to speak of her work in 

141 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Hawaii, and is at this writing in a prominent position 
as an instructor in Florida. Her life has been a de- 
voted service for her household and her Lord. 

I had sought counsel of dear Uncle William and 
waited with trepidation for his reply to my letter an- 
nouncing my new hopes. He began his reply by saying, 
"My dear niece, 

I am not surprised at your recent determination. 
Ever since when six years old you recited Watts' Di- 
vine Hymns for Children at my knee, I have felt that 
your life work would be in public ministry. I will aid 
you all possible, assuring you of my prayers." 

I took counsel also of Dr. Walker of Wheaton 
College, author of The Philosophy of the Plan of Sal- 
vation, Doctrine of the Holy Spirit and other text 
books used in English as well as American Colleges. 
He was the most original thinker and preacher in my 
coterie of friends. He also wrote me saying, 

"I am not surprised at the contents of your letter 
just received. It would be both a privilege and a 
pleasure to me to aid you just now were I not going 
away at the time you suggest seeing me. I think I 
can appreciate your desire to find a place of active 
usefulness, to do some thing that would satisfy the 
conscience and the heart. Were I to be at home I 
could aid you in various ways, and you could be of 
much use to me, especially in rewriting my manuscripts 
that need to be collated. But, till we may meet, could 
not you find some quiet church in which to exercise 
your gifts for a time, in order to the establishment of 
your convictions in regard to your work?" 

Early in June 1873, I started for New England to 
142 



MY FIRST SERMON 

find what Miss Norton wisely considered essential to 
my well-being, a change of air and scene; for she said, 
"the bracing atmosphere of your New England hills 
will make a new creature of you." 

First, then, I went to my dear uncle's Chicago 
home. He had secured the consent of his fellow- 
deacons to my speaking in the pulpit of the Lincoln 
Park Congregational church of which he was one of the 
founders. The young pastor's position, however was 
one of resignation rather than consent. He called on 
me at 9 A. M. Saturday morning, before I was expect- 
ing the ministerial visitation. On a lounge in the back 
parlor with a book in my hand, dressed in a white 
wrapper with cherry-colored ribbons, and with light 
and very curly hair, I was anything but the prim, se- 
date maiden of years he had expected to meet. As I 
rose somewhat embarrassed, to greet him, I heartily 
wished he had waited till later when I should have 
been dressed in plain, black silk with white lace, and 
with my hair done up in a less frisky style. 

I shall rehearse all the conversation. My caller as- 
sured me that "men who wish to preach, go to college. }} 
I humbly suggested that I had been. "Well, but men 
who preach study homiletics and theology." I mod- 
estly admitted that I had dared do the same. "Have 
you attended a Theological Seminary?" I was asked. 
"Which one connected with our denomination is open 
to women?" I asked. He thought a moment and said,, 
"None at all." "Have you ever read a book called 
The Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation? asked the 
minister. I replied that its logical author, Dr. Walker, 
had been my teacher, and my correspondent, and had 

143 



A PILGRIM MAID 

greatly encouraged me to go forward in the work I felt 
called to do. I then added, "Pastor Sumner, I am 
not asking for your pulpit. I hardly know why your 
deacons have asked me to speak in it. I am only anx- 
ious to follow the teachings of the Holy Spirit and 
divine providences. I shall shed no tears should the 
deacons change their minds before tomorrow evening. 
"But," he finally said, "You are not — excuse me — you 
are not very old. I was looking for an older woman 
with much experience in life." I immediately told my 
age, regretting the fact that I had been born at so late 
a period in the history of the world, but stoutly asserted 
that I was completely irresponsible for the date of my 
birth; that I would grow old as fast as possible; and 
that I firmly believed, if the past hour was any criter- 
ion by which to judge, I should certainty soon turn 
gray. We parted in good humor to meet Sabbath 
evening. 

Saturday night I received a letter from my college 
Mary's father, from which I copy from my letter book 
of 1873, "Your favor is received, and 0! shall I say. 
it? It was read with silent, tearful, painful interest, 
and were I addressing you as one of my own birdlings 
I could not do otherwise than say 'My child, you are 
undoubtedly acting under a mistaken sense of duty — 
The reason I cannot second your designs is that they 
are so averse to and subversive of God's established 
arrangements. O! Miss Townsley! my heart yearns to 
God for you, for there must be a mistake somewhere — 
I can only say don't! don't! don't.' " 

Yours with christian regard 

L B . 

144 



MY FIRST SERMON 

What should I do? Saturday evening, and I to preach 
on the Sabbath night! I laid that letter on my bed 
and knelt down to pray and I heard this: "Did you 
expect everybody to help you? If you must blaze 
the way through the forest of ultra-conservatism, do 
you look for praise or criticism? You are to follow not 
human wisdom, first, but the gleam, the gleam, the 
gleam you surely saw." And I rose and read, "And 
every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or 
sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or 
lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundred 
fold, and shall inherit everlasting life. But many that 
are first shall be last; and the last shall be first." 
Then I went to sleep comforted. 

The Sabbath evening preaching hour came. I had 
spent the previous one upon my knees. The pastor 
walked in silence beside me to the church. Before en- 
tering the pulpit he said, "Miss Smiley gave a Bible 
reading here lately, I presume you wish to do — just as 
she did." (Could he expect it of inexperienced me?) 
"That is" he whispered, "she asked me to read all the 
hymns, offer the prayers and read the scripture lesson." 
Most gladly I assented, only daring to ask that the 
lesson from the Word be my selection and related to 
my subject. In another moment I was facing a curi- 
ous congregation among whom sat the great hearted, 
memory haunted christian man, my uncle, who had 
loved my precious mother as few brothers love and 
confide in a sister. And of the dead mother he was 
thinking more that sacred hour than of her child. 

That I did not lecture on Woman's Rights, or be- 
rate men-organizations seemed a surprise to the pas- 

145 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tor, who watched me closely with open mouth as well 
as eyes and ears and who at the close offered me his 
pulpit whenever I should be in the city, with profound 
apology for his previous quizzing. 

As the memory of that evening comes back to me 
after thirty-five years I pray I may never depend less 
on my Savior, or be less lost to all save His Will. 
Many mistakes have been mine. Many foolish thoughts 
and vain desires have temporarily lodged within me; 
but the old story is ever true and the Christ Who held 
my hand and stilled my heart then, is the same yes- 
terday, today and forever. 



146 



CHAPTER XXL 
Hindered — Helped 

"There are many persons who are saints and are 
So holy that they see the world through their 
Own halos and are dazzled by their own white light!" 

My dear college room-mate, Mary, being about to 
graduate, the day following my first preaching I hur- 
ried to her at Wheaton before going East. Her par- 
ents were in charge of the boarding hall at the college, 
where I went. Mary met me kindly, but with some 
constraint. When we were alone she asked, "Did you 
receive Father's letter, Fannie?" I said, "Yes, Mary." 
"Did you preach last evening in the city?" I ans- 
wered affirmatively, and no more was then said. But 
I saw my friend was hurt. Had I not gone contrary 
to her judgment and her father's expressed wish? 

The social functions, the graduating exercises, 
the meeting of former associates could not atone for 
the lack of what I so missed in Mary. At length we 
had time for a chat. "Fannie, do you still hold your- 
self ready to do public work of the preaching sort?" 
was her question. "Yes, Mary; so far as the way 
opens before me," I answered. With a somewhat 
positive manner Mary then said, "I don't wish to hurt 
your feelings, Fan, but I am going to tell you that all 
the motive you have is love of applause, and the de- 

147 



A PILGRIM MAID 

sire of human approval. " The tears fell from my 
eyes as I cried out, Mary, by the grace of God, you 
shall some day take that back!" 

I had always received much credit at Wheaton 
for my writing and declaiming, and suppose that Mary 
really feared that similar approval in wider fields 
would puff me to the point of bursting with vain glory. 
You who have read so far will see that a divine Prov- 
idence was taking care of that danger for me! How- 
ever, as her father also felt keenly my opposition to 
his sense of duty for vie, I was soon led to shorten my 
visit and so hurried away. 

Fifteen years after when I was at Wheaton, to 
address the college students, Mary, now Mrs. W. I. 
Phillips, entertained me. As I stood at her door the 
morning I left her happy, christian home she asked 
me if I remembered the hard things she had said to 
me years before. I assured her that I had not treas- 
ured them up in any spirit of unkindness, but had felt 
that He who had permitted them to wound me at the 
time, had made them a means of blessing to me, as 
they had served as a danger signal, often; and that I 
had missed her confidence and a correspondence with 
her through the years. "Well," she said, "I have 
learned that God knows what to do with people even 
better than I do." 

I stood five minutes before the tiny cottage in 
Wheaton whence my mother passed into the glory, 
and renewed my vow to God and mother that by the 
grace of Him who made himself of no reputation, and 
dwelt ever in the Father's Will, Mary's fear for me 
should not be realized. 

148 



HINDERED— HELPED 

Her father, four years after I entered on my pub- 
lic work, wrote me an apology for his former lack of 
sympathy and in after years atoned for it more amply 
than I can here narrate. 

To my friend Millie Buck of Wheaton I wrote 
concerning my trip East as follows: — "At night we 
changed cars at Cincinnati, and being very sleepy, I 
got into the smoker, when as I stood rubbing my eyes, 
a real gentleman rose and offered to lead me to the 
car where I belonged, a kindness which was only one 
of many inobtrusive courtesies Capt. Hawes showed 
me on the journey. We breakfasted at Parkersburg, 
Virginia, the next morning, where I ate my first dev- 
iled crab. 

"Soon we were in the glory of the mountains. In 
the early forenoon a gentleman roused me from a qui- 
et doze saying, "Madam, if you wish to see some of 
America's grandest scenery, look out of the window!" 
O! the grandeur of that mountain ride! I wanted to 
shout "Glory to God in the highest," but contented 
myself with quietly whispering "The strength of the 
hills is His, also." Have you read what Thos. Starr King 
says of the mountains? "They do not sob or moan or 
roar like the melancholy sea. They speak to us from 
the repose of self-centered character; the sea from 
the upheavals of unappeasible passion. — The powers 
of the air bring all their batteries against them ; tor- 
rents plow them; lightnings blast them; tempests rive 
them, sunshine scorches them; frosts gnaw away their 
substance and hurl it down to the valleys; yet they 
utter no cry! After thunder and lightning and hail 
they lift up their peaks above the baffled clouds with 

149 



A PILGRIM MAID 

no shout of triumph, but calmly and serenely, just as 
if it was their mission, to suffer and be strong." 

We passed through thirty-three tunnels in less 
than one hundred miles, on from Parkersburg, past 
Harper's Ferry, and the spot where John Brown was 
captured; passed the Heights where our army's forts 
overlooked the river for a time, and reaching Wash- 
ington entered a car for the other side the city where 
Capt. Hawes who had proven so courteous through 
my journey, aided me in finding Dr. Gray and my 
childhood's playmate, his daughter Gussie. 

Mrs. Gray was motherliness itself. Dr. Gray 
took me to his mid-week service where I spoke briefly 
to his Baptist flock. 

In Washington, I again met Miss Emily C. 
Lamson, the teacher, in old Massachusetts, of the six 
restless little girls who essayed poetry so long before, 
and perhaps in memory of that time, certainly in need 
of some money, I wrote a poem entitled, "The Moon- 
beam's Message," and daringly sent it to the Harper 
Brothers, who sent me a ten dollar-gold-piece and en- 
couraging words in return for this first printed poem 
of mine which appeared in Harpei's Weekly. 

Again to Miss Buck I also wrote, "I spent three 
hot but happy weeks in Washington, visited many 
places of interest, and then an old friend of my parents 
happening in, offered to escort me at no expense to 
myself to Shelburne Falls, the mecca of my wander- 
ings, the home of my childhood, where were the graves 
of my dead. I gladly embraced, not the gentleman, 
but the opportunity and soon was amid the memory 
fraught scenes of the past. How much I had passed 

150 



HINDERED— HELPED 

through in the twelve years since we had broken 
up the dear home and gone west. Since then the 
Hoosac Tunnel had been completed and as we shot 
through into the light I found a pleasant little railway 
station in place of the stage tavern, and a beautiful 
iron bridge over the Deerfield River where once a 
long, dark, covered, wooden structure had divided the 
dwellers "at the Falls" from their neighbors on the 
Buckland side." 

"Of my first visit to mother's and father's graves 
I shall not write. You will not expect it. But one 
great longing is satisfied. I have seen where they laid 
her! She is far more to me, today, Millie, than she 
was when, walking by her side, I knew her not. Thank 
God for memory. Hopes twines us bright flowers to 
wear, perhaps, in coming years. Memory weaves for 
us the fairest, surest garlands we can wear this side 
the Country where they know as they are known." 



151 



CHAPTER^XXII. 
Waiting and Studying Near Mother's Grave 

"Haste not, — rest not! calmly wait. 

Meekly bear the storms of fate ; 
Duty be thy polar guide ; 

Do the right whatever betide; 
Haste not, — rest not! conflicts past — 

God shall crown thy work at last.'' 

On arriving at Shelburne Fall I became the guest 
of E. G. Lamson's family, and Florence Lamson with 
her accepted lover 0. P. Gifford, then a student in the 
Seminary, met me at the station. Mr. Gifford was 
supplying the Baptist pulpit during the summer vaca- 
tion, and we who had been speakers in the Sunday 
School concerts of our childhood, stood together in 
the pulpit my first Sabbath evening, there where I saw 
our family pew vacant before me and spoke on words 
from Hezekiah's prayer — "Lord by these things men 
live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit; so 
wilt Thou recover me and make me to live." (Isaiah 
39:16.) 

On to Boston from Shelburne Falls as I had prom- 
ised mother. Quaint, historic Boston! There dwelt 
mother's Aunt Sleeper with whom she had lived a 
while in her girlhood, and who had sent us occasional- 
ly Christmas boxes to help us over the hard places. 

152 



NEAR MOTHER'S GRAVE 

Her husdand, the Hon. Jacob Sleeper, a pillar of Bos- 
ton Methodism, donor of Sleeper Hall to the Boston 
University, was a dignified gentleman of the old school 
type of courtesy. Every morning as I came down the 
stairway from my third story chamber which was hung 
with oil paintings of their daughters, Mrs. E. P. Dutton 
of N. Y. City and Mrs. J. W. Harper Jr., Uncle Sleep- 
er met me with a fatherly kiss, offered me his arm and 
and led me to the breakfast room. 

The first morning he said, "Your Uncle Davis 
writes me of your sermon in Chicago and your call to 
this sort of work. I hereby appoint you chaplain to 
the house of Sleeper, and each morning you will go 
with me, after breakfast to your Aunt Sleeper's private 
room and conduct family prayers. After which you 
will read to her from Beeeher's Morning Exercises til! 
she bids you stop. I understand you are a good 
reader. " 

And I obeyed. For in that New England home 
the word of the head of the house was law. These 
morning hours were helpful to me. 

Mr. Sleeper took me to many places of interest in 
the city, and one day taking me into a famous book 
store presented me with beautifully bound copies of 
Longfellow, Tennyson and Cowper, inscribing on the 
fly leaf of each "As a token of affection, and high es- 
teem of Jacob Sleeper, Boston 1873. " They lie before 
me as I write today. 

In the Sleeper home on Ashburton Place I rehears- 
ed some of mother's experiences, while auntie would 
wipe her eyes and murmur, "Poor, dear Charlotte," 

153 



A PILGRIM MAID 

and I know that many kindnesses were shown me 
there for my mother's sake. 

One day the grandson, a son of Mrs. George Da- 
vis, then of Rio Janerio, Brazil, came from South 
America to attend school. He was a quiet, gentle- 
manly youth nineteen years old. Of course he was 
anxious to attend ball games and other sports, and 
see Boston. But the day of his arrival I overheard 
Uncle Sleeper say to him, "Herbert, a niece of ours 
is here from Illinois, for a few days. I shall expect 
you to devote yourself to her pleasure. To any place 
she wishes to go, as I am unusually busy, you will of 
course escort her, and consider your own plans sub- 
servient to her wishes." 

"Most certainly, sir/' was the reply, and Herbert 
was true to his word. 

Once, having discovered his special desire to 
witness a certain ball game, I feigned a sick headache, 
so as to postpone a planned trip to Boston Common 
for a day or two. 

On the day we went, I gathered up courage to 
ask aunt Sleeper whether I should wear my little 
traveling hat for this walk in the earlier part of the 
day, or my little white illusion bonnet with pink rose- 
buds. Auntie smilingly replied, "well if I was a girl 
going to walk in Boston Common with a nice young 
man just from South America, / should wear the best 
I had?' 

So, I put on the bonnet and a suitable gown. As 
we started out, auntie looked us over and said to me 
(0, that, quiet, critical, yet kindly manner of hers!) 
"So you expect to preach, do you?" "Maybe, if God 

154 



NEAR MOTHER'S GRAVE 

says so" I answered. "Child!" she said, "I'll give you 
just two years." 

Dear cousin Herbert! He afterward took orders 
in the Episcopal church and exemplified the spirit of 
his Master so manifestly as to win the love and honor 
of his associates, and was in a very short time called 
to the higher service of heaven. His mother Elizabeth 
Sleeper Davis, bore the bereavement as only a sincere 
christian could, and was widely known in the Woman's 
Foreign Mission Circles of the Methodist Church, the 
rest of her days. 

On returning from Boston to Shelburne Falls, I 
met Mr. Lamson's older daughter Flora, who influ- 
enced my life the ensuing months for holier living and 
deeper spirituality than I had known. She had trav- 
eled extensively in Europe, had a fine private library, 
and had met many people of interest. She lived near- 
er to her Lord than anyone I had met, and to share 
her room for eight months, her prayers and her Bible 
studies meant much blessing to me. Yet her own 
griefs, some of which to my surprise she disclosed to 
me, had been severe. Long after, in an hour of su- 
preme temptation, I knew the divine why of her hav- 
ing lifted the heavy curtain of silence from a scene in 
her life where God and an utterly unselfish affection 
had united to save her from — herself. Some day she 
will see that why, also, and be glad she told me. 
While a guest in this home of my mother's friends, 
members of the church she loved, I could but remain 
a worshipper with them in its hallowed precincts, 
though then not a Baptist myself. 

Flora, after consulting other ladies of different 
155 



A PILGRIM MAID 

churches urged me to remain east for a time and do 
city missionary work from door to door. I wanted to 
study human nature. Here was my opportunity. 
She finally suggested that I open an evening school 
for boys who worked in her father's cutlery shops, and 
girls from the silk factory, and I did so, she meeting 
the expenses and inspiring us by her presence. I also 
led a Saturday afternoon meeting for girls, and know 
that the seed there sown grew to abundant harvests. 

I gathered a mission Sabbath School class of young- 
men most of whom were from the shops across the 
river, and I saw a number of these become christians 
and pass through baptismal waters into the church. 
How I came to love those boys! And some of them I 
know loved me. And how 1 loved Flora! Her team 
of horses, Jacob and Esau, she drove through the win- 
ter's snows, and the summer's sands, to conduct me in 
my missionary visiting to homes where her own sug- 
gestions and prayers were often more helpful than 
mine; but sometimes she would say as we approached 
a home of poverty, or one where some peculiar sorrow 
had left its sting, "Fannie, you'd better go in here 
alone; you know what poverty means, or their special 
grief, and I do not." How much I learned on those 
daily rounds of personal work for my Master! 

At this time Uncle John Vassar of New York 
came to Shelburne Falls to do a little work for his 
Lord, and it was my privilege to labor with him in per- 
sonal work three full and instructive days. His meth- 
ods of work were of course his very own. For example 
one day we met three mill girls in a pouring rain. As 
they approached, he quietly said to me "Introduce 

156 



NEAR MOTHER'S GRAVE 

me to them." I did so. He shook hands, saying 
"Young ladies, I'm on an errand for the King. Have 
you yet dedicated your lives to Jesus?" "No sir" was 
the murmured answer. Then came a sentence to each, 
of loving entreaty, and then he said, lifting his hat, 
"I mustn't keep you in the rain, let us pray." and in a 
very few words he offered such a tender prayer for 
their conversion as they cannot forget. Then saying 
a hearty "God bless you, girls, and I thank you." he 
hurried on. 

He would ask me to take him to shop or residence 
where some unsaved one could be found to whom he 
would say "I'm just Uncle John Vassar. No minister — 
not even an under-shepherd, just the Shepherd's dog 
after stray sheep, and as you may not be able to hear 
me at the church this evening let me say a few words 
to you now." 

No one refused us entrance. His calls were brief, 
his words few, his prayers simple. After three or four 
such calls he would say to me, "Now take me to some 
saint who can pray for me." And some one like Aunt 
Melinda Hawks (of the cream toast episode of my 
scarlet fever experience) would welcome him with 
"Come in thou blessed of the Lord" and refresh him 
with prayerful sympathy. 

It becomes my painful duty to state that Flora 
Lamson was quite opposed to any thought of my pub- 
lic ministry. Occasional calls to speak at an evening 
service or as a Sabbath supply, came to me from ad- 
jacent villages, when Flora would sadly see me off on 
the train, or say tenderly "I wish you would not go." 

Sometimes she would joke me unmercifully, or tell 
157 



A PILGRIM MAID 

me before guests who were strangers to me about the 
hen who wanted to crow. I could offer no explana- 
tion, make no suitable reply and for months on this 
subject was shut up wholly unto the Lord. If I wrote 
as I did frequently in a room by myself, Flora's quiz- 
zical questionings as to my "sermonic themes/' my 
"burnings of genius" and the like, left a sharp sting. 
God knows I was only trying to obey Him in the dark 
and to heed the old adage, "Get thy spindle and thy 
distaff ready and God will send thee flax." 

My affections have always been intense. My 
friendships close and sacredly tender. If I suffered 
in those days only God knew how deeply. He had 
let this friend come into my life with instruction and 
uplifting inspiration, and I had been in danger of be- 
coming an idol worshipper. He was saving me from 
that. I had longed to be like my friend in unselfish- 
ness, in prayerfulness, in the ardent purpose to honor 
Christ, but I must differ in some things from the close 
friend to whom I shall ever owe so much. If I could 
have had some quiet work, or married some noble 
young candidate for ministerial honors, it would prob- 
ably have seemed to Flora to be of the Lord. But 
the gleam, often dim, had never quite vanished. I 
wrote, studied, prayed, biding my time. But I knew 
a woeful burden lay upon Flora's unselfish soul for me, 
knew it by the breach widening between us; by the 
frequent long silences between us; by the wording 
of her prayers; by the style of reading with which 
she favored me and her comments on the same. But 
I could still offer no suggestion, explanation or re- 
traction. A few of mother's old friends understood 

158 



NEAR MOTHER'S GRAVE 

but were helpless. To others as to the dear kind pas- 
tor. Rev. Philip S. Evans, I know I must have been a 
mystery or an enigma. 

He and his devoted wife were leading the purest 
higher Christian life in the home, the church and the 
community, and Mrs. Evans could talk with Flora, 
and then commit me to the Lord and be at peace. 

That I did sometimes feel impatient and show un- 
rest I regretted, especially in view of Florence Lam- 
son's sweet, peaceful hopeful manner. She was Flora's 
young sister, — 0. P. Gifford's betrothed, as already 
noted. 

But she had love, and home and a brightening 
future before her. Were I writing Dr. Gifford's life or 
his wife's, I might narrate many little incidents of 
their youth which they will probably thank ma to 
omit, or leave for an abler chronicler of their exalted 
and useful service in the ministry they still so honor. 

It seemed best for me to leave the shelter of, the 
Lamson home and board through the winter at the 
hotel. I had told my friends that my conviction f was 
growing firmer that I must preach the gospel. Mean- 
while I must wait God's time and way for an open 
door, and learn all possible while waiting. I seized 
every opportunity to study homiletics, theology, New 
Testament Greek, and once took a correspondence 
course under Dean Wright of New York. But I sorely 
missed the competitive work of the Seminary class 
room. God would, some how, make that up to me. 



159 



CHAPTER XXIII. 
By Baptism 

"Dost thou fear that striekest trial? 

Tremblest thou at Christ's denial? 
Never rest without it! 

Clasp thine arms about it — 
That dear cross!" 

And while I waited, a question arose anew before 
me and like banquo's ghost would not down. By 
childhood's teachings, by scenes witnessed from time 
in my present life, by quiet Scripture readings, I was 
being brought face to face with the Scriptural teach- 
ing on believers' baptism. As long ago as I had joined 
the little Hoyleton Congregational church I had been 
received on my protest against infant baptism. And 
that protest I had renewed on presenting my letter 
from that body to the college church at Wheaton. 
The Wheaton pastor Mr. Brewster, from Cleveland, 
Ohio, had turned to President Blanchard on his right 
at the church meeting, asking him to examine me on 
that subject. The dear President cleared his throat 
aiid said, "May I ask the young sister if she ever heard 
of the Abrahamic Qpvenant?" I replied that I had 
carefully studied that part of Genesif, and fully ex- 
pected the God of Abraham would fulfill his part of 
the covenant to the letter. 

The venerable father in Israel then asked if I re- 
160 

* 



BY BAPTISM 

membered the New Testament account of the conver- 
sion and baptism of the Phillippian jailer's household, 
which perhaps included infants. 

I replied, "Yes sir; but I also remember neighbor 
Jones' household received into this church a month 
ago, — not a child under sixteen among them. Also I 
remember Lawyer Smith's family received here two 
months ago, a man and wife, four sons and a daughter, 
the youngest fourteen years old, believing in God like 
the jailer's household, every one of them," and I 
added, "it seems poor Congregationalism to me, to say 
for an unconscious babe what he could not understand 
much less authorize the parents to say for him, and 
thus bind a soul to obligations he must assume some 
day for himself, or deny his own unconscious vows 
made by others." 

This seems to me opposed to the very spirit of 
true Congregationalism protesting in the beginning 
against the secularization of the church, and the ritual- 
izing of its worship. 

Professor Blanchard said,— "Never mind, Pastor, 
put the motion to accept this girl's church letter, and 
next week I'll have a talk with her and set her right 
at once." But the week and the years passed without 
that talk being suggested. All these years however, 
I had been counted, because a Congregationalist, a be- 
liever in the practice I tacitly endorsed by my con- 
nection with that body, which had long taught infant 
baptism as an appointed rite of the church till late 
years^ when through the influence of the stanch wit- 
ness of Baptists, it no longer holds the belief and the 
practice as an essential to membership, though con- 

161 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tinuing the practice as a tender, beautiful yet optional 
service. 

As I was made a Sunday School teacher and mem- 
ber of the choir at once, it could not have seemed so 
heretical a position which I held after all. 

If all churches would eliminate from their state- 
ments of belief and their general practice everything 
for which they cannot produce a. "Thus saith the 
Lord," — not an inference, merely, we should speedily 
arrive at today's much discussed unity of the body 
of Christ. 

However, I had now to face the question of the 
mode of believer's baptism, and I was net willing. 
During my few months of occasional Bible teaching I 
had carefully omitted the reading or explanation of . 
Romans, 6th Chapter, and gone around many other 
passages I otherwise should have used. 

Bye and bye this struck me as dishonest. The 
subject of baptism in conversation had been a for- 
bidden one in the home of my friend, at my earnest 
request, yet I knew Flora keenly felt my position and 
partially understood my struggles. 

I had no doubt Christ had been immersed. The 
day when a Poedo baptist publishing house could issue 
Sabbath School papers such as I had once seen, with 
a picture of John the Baptist pouring water out of a 
cup on our Savior's head, had gone by — forever. 

That the early church immersed seemed historic- 
ally plain to me. But why might not the rite have 
been changed to accommodate the convenience or 
wishes of modern converts? 

There are three conceivable grounds any one of 
162 



:, 



BY BAPTISM 

which might seem to justify an alteration in this mode. 
The first is an express command, or permission. This 
has never been found. Second. The lodgement in 
the church or some part of it of the power to change 
the rite at will. This has never been found. Third. 
Its little importance. Had Christ delegated the au- 
thority to repeal or change any law of His, to mortal 
men? Not even to the Apostles. As to the impor- 
tance of the act might I say as did some, — "Only 
form?" "Not essential." "Merely external." As 
well say of the Bible, "made up of only words, printed 
letters," etc. Or of a marriage service, "only a cere- 
mony" and thus let loose on society the foul creatures 
of lust and free love. I could only ask. 

What does immersion mean? Surely, in that one 
symbol are the fundamental teachings of the gospel 
faith expressed. Had I not heard the symbol spoken 
of as the "mold of doctrine?" 

Surely into that mold is poured the public con- 
fession of a need of cleansing from sin, of faith in 
Christ's death and resurrection and promise of eternal 
life, and our own death to sin and pledge of a new life. 
I here insert Dr. Boardman's eloquent words on the 
symbolism of baptism, as valuable today as when pub- 
lished in 1867, and carefully read by me in 1874 

"Wouldst thou symbolize thy death to sin, and 
resurrection to holiness? Then be buried by BAPTISM 
into death; that like as Christ was raised up from the 
dead by the glory of the Father, even so thou also 
mayst walk in newness of life. Wouldst thou sym- 
bolize thy total defilement and thy desire for total 
purification? Then arise and be baptised and wash 

163 



A PILGRIM MAID 

away thy sins. Wouldst thou symbolize thy belief in 
a buried and risen mediator, and thy participation in 
his death and resurrection? Then be buried with him 
in baptism, wherein also arise with him. Wouldst 
thou symbolize thy confident expectation that thou 
shalt share in his blissful immortality? Then submit 
thyself to baptism — descending into the liquid tomb 
and emerging; for if thou art planted together with 
him in the likeness of his death, thou shalt be also in 
the likeness of his resurrection. Oh, glorious symbol 
this of the Christian's creed! He may tell me in words 
all that he believes about himself and about his Lord. 
He may tell me of his sin and his hopes — his tears for 
the past and his resolves for the future. He may tell 
me all that Jesus has done for him, and all that he 
intends to do for Jesus. But when I see him silently 
submitting himself to holy baptism, I read a more elo- 
quent story, told in language which all peoples of the 
earth can understand; which changes not with the 
flight of years; which no oratory can rival; which car- 
ries the head because it has first carried the heart; 
which is the truth of God expressed in the act of man. 
Not that there is anything in the ordinance which sa- 
vours of regenerating or sanctifying tendency. For 
baptism is a symbol not a power; a shadow, not the 
substance. And it shadows forth, at the same in- 
stant, the most momentous events in the history of 
Christ and in the history of the Christian; all that Christ 
has suffered and done for us; all that we mean to suffer 
and do for Christ; all that we are by nature; all that 
we hope to be by grace." 

Of course in my own particular case with the phy- 
164 



BY BAPTISM 

sical disability I have already hinted at, I tried to ex- 
cuse myself from this act as not necessary. No Bap- 
tist holds it as an ordinance unto salvation. But many 
are saved who are not wholly obedient. It was possi- 
ble to conceive of cases where illness or similar con- 
ditions made immersion impracticable. 

Should then, another rite be substituted for this, 
because of the inability of a few sick or otherwise ex- 
ceptional instances, here and there, against the whole 
body of believers? That were a leap of logic most 
astounding. Far better to consider these persons, ex- 
cused, by divine providence from performing an out- 
ward act, in place of which, the inward disposition is 
accepted. Was not here my loop-hole of escape? 
Truly I had not been scripturally baptized. Romans 
6th Chap, began to take on new meaning to me. Yet 
hard it was to admit that / with a physical infirmity 
strange and so trying that I could not bathe in as 
large a quantity of water as a bath-tub suggests, or 
bend over a full wash bowl of water without suffoca- 
tion, or witness a baptism without heart weakness fol- 
lowing, should offer myself as a candidate for the or- 
dinance. But what was I losing? The privilege of 
witnessing to mighty truths! The gaining of a great 
victory over physical and mental perplexities! A 
proving of my Father's protection and deliverance. 
The fullness of blessing which awaits the soul who will 
fulfil all righteousness. Any failure at any point to do 
the thing next presented one, means the loss of some 
light, some power, some future blessedness. Might I 
not dare? 

Only once had my friend Flora urged it, as taking 
165 



A PILGRIM MAID 

me in her arms she whispered, "Dear, before you go 
from the scenes of your childhood, would it not be a 
blessed thing to be baptized into the church of your 
mother's faith, almost in sight of her grave?" And I 
had answered, "Yes, but I cannot. It is for me an 
impossibility! Not even for mother's sake could I 
venture it." 

After weeks of inner conflict I told my perplexity 
to the pastor and to the church. No one urged me to 
go forward, some suggested its utter folly for me, say- 
ing "it is not required." Pastor and Mrs. Evans with 
Flora Lamson kept a prayerful silence. 

Meanwhile I consulted a fine physician, not a 
church member, telling him fully and frankly my di- 
lemma. He assured me it was a case similar to 0. W. 
Holmes' Mortal Antipathy, which story I had read 
with keen interest, and advised me to go forward. 1 
told him of a strange dream which had been my afflic- 
tion all my life, whenever I retired extremely weary 
or nerve-worn. It usually left me half sick. It was 
then that I prayed God, if it were His will that I should 
be baptized, that He would give me a token thereof 
in freeing me from this dream for three months. He 
did, for exactly that time, when it returned with re- 
doubled horrors. 

Finally I set the day for my baptism, the first 
Sabbath of January 1874. The preceding Saturday I 
left my change of raiment in the robing room. That 
night I awoke at two o'clock in my hotel room from 
my frightful dream, with perspiration covering me 
from head to feet, and a seeming weight of hundreds 
of pounds upon mv chest. I could hardly breathe or 

166 



BY BAPTISM 

lift my hand. At sunrise I sent for Flora who came 
and prayed with me. The pastor named me at church 
tenderly and my baptism was postponed. All I asked 
was a little time to face the enemy alone. Shortly 
after this, a very close Congregational friend from 
Chicago called on me and learning my purpose to be- 
come a Baptist, waxed very wroth and uttered such 
insinuations as to my motives, as caused me in sheer 
self-respect, to show him the door! 

For all this, he has shown regret and tried to a- 
tone. Let us pass over this hard hour of my life. I 
had lost his favor, and the offers of his extensive in- 
fluence in opening a field of usefulness, under Poeclo- 
baptist auspices in Chicago. 

After January and most of February had passed, 
I stopped, one Saturday at Pastor Evans' study ask- 
ed him to arrange for my baptism the following noon. 
"Do not talk to me! I am going if I die!" I said. 
Had not my kind physician told me my baptism might 
completely cure me of my disability and at the same 
time, had he not said, "It might cause a heart and nerve 
prostration very serious, even unto death"? "You 
will not die" said my dear Pastor. 

At night Flora took me again to her own room, 
not to talk but by her presence to comfort me. Her 
evening prayer was brief, tender, not effusive, and I 
slept profoundly till 6:30 Sabbath morning, and rose 
glad to know that my crucifixion would be over and 
my victory won long before sunset. At ten o'clock 
the pastor called to ask if I had not better be the last 
of the six candidates "lest something happening you, 
would frighten the others." I replied "I must run no 

167 



A PILGRIM MAID 

risk, but must be your first candidate today." He 
preached a grand sermon "Be thou faithful unto death, 
and I will give thee a crown of life." explaining it as 
meaning faithful even if it means your death, rather 
than faithful until the hour of your dying. (The true 
interpretation of Rev. 2:10.) 

At its close I passed with others to the robing 
room. As the door swung open that led to the con- 
venient and carefully warmed baptistery which I saw 
the pastor enter from the other side, my own strength 
all left me, and Flora literally held me up. In clear, 
brave tones I heard the pastor say, "Let us pray," 
and he did pray. Then, as he extended his hands to 
me, I took the offered strength of the Lord, but the 
deacons standing on either side of the steps were afraid 
to touch me, till I looked into Deacon Wright's face 
and smiled. As my feet touched the waters all my 
soul and body seemed thrilled with triumphant vic- 
tory and as the pastor received me saying "Thou wilt 
keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on 
thee," I knew I should "not die but live and declare 
the works of the Lord." 

As I left the Baptistery I recognized dear Aunt 
Melinda Hawks standing between the two deacons; for 
had she not the right, who had stood by my mother 
in a similar hour forty years before on the bank of the 
Deerfield River? Who had a better right to cry out 
"Praise ye the Lord"? 

Who can express my peace that indeed passed all 
understanding? That afternoon I wrote the following, 
shortly after published in the Boston "Watchman and 
Reflector." 

168 



BY BAPTISM 

I stood beside the waters' dreaded brink 

And saw a grave; 
I looked to Heaven, and rays of purest light 

Gilded each wave. 

I thought of persecutions' sneer and frown, 

The world's proud scorn; 
Then raised my eyes to Him who bore for me 

Earth's crown of thorn. 

I trod with trembling feet the sepulcher 

Where the Lord lay, 
And o'er it shown the never-fading light 

Of Heaven's own day. 

Beneath the sacred waters solemnly 

I bowed my head 
To find a couch sweeter and softer far 

Than downy bed. 

Supported by the Lover of my soul 

I rose to rest 
In sweet security forevermore 

On Jesus' breast 

This heavy cross dear Lord, I bear today 

For Thee, I said; 
And lo! The cross a crown of glory shone 

Upon my head! 

Now, dead to sin, alive to holiness 

I live to Thee, 
One with Thyself, Beloved of my soul 

Eternally! 

[March 1st, 1874.] 



169 



CHAPTER XXIV. 
From Teaching to Preaching 

"The Faith by which ye see Him, 
The Hope in which ye yearn, 
The Love that through all troubles 
To Him alone will turn, — 

What are they but vaunt -couriers 
To lead you to His sight ? 
What are they save the effluence 
Of uncreated light?" 

For financial reasons I soon left the hotel, secur- 
ing in a large, empty house, a room for study and for 
rest, taking my meals with Dea. Rice's family, near. 
I think Flora thought me lonely and pitied me. But 
I desired instead, sympathy. 

Finally, my pocket book empty and no open door 
of service, I packed my trunks, and knelt before them 
saying, "Father, I am in Thy Will. On Monday, new 
owners will take possession of these rooms, and I must 
go forth — where? Not a shelter have I on earth. 
Not because of any loyalty or merit on my part, but 
because Thou art pledged to care for Thine own, I 
plead with Thee for a way out and into service." 

This was on Friday. Not a ripple of worry passed 
over my soul. On Saturday a minister from Wil- 
mington, Vt., called, asking if I would go to his village 

170 



FROM TEACHING TO PREACHING 

and take charge of the school which was a mixture of 
Graded School and Academy, requiring reorganizing 
and good teaching. The lady previously engaged had 
failed them at the last hour. Would I go, on Monday, 
and begin school Tuesday morning? 

Was this God's answer? As I hesitantly said, 
"Mr. Goodnow, I was hoping for different employ- 
ment," he said, "Aren't you the lady who preaches 
now and then? Come to Wilmington, take our school, 
preach for me Sabbaths whenever you will. We need 
reviving. You'll have preaching enough." "Give me 
an hour to pray over it" I requested, and he left me; 
and for one hour I earnestly prayed; the gleam shone 
out again, and I promised to accept the work offered 
me. 

It was a joy to Flora Lamson to learn of my de- 
cision. I said no word to her about the preaching 
possibilities, and I think she did not suspect them. 

On Monday I went to Wilmington and began six 
months of as pleasant work as I could have asked. I 
taught six hours a day, taught French two hours on 
Saturdays, Latin three evenings in the week, and 
preached once, often twice on Sabbaths. The climate 
agreed with me and I was healthier than for years be- 
fore. The Congregational pastor, A. C. Field, was de- 
veloping consumptive tendencies, and went to Florida 
for his health and I filled his pulpit much of the time 
he was away. His children were in my school, Cora, 
the oldest, being almost like a younger sister to me, a 
bright student, inclined to literary pursuits, full of fun, 
not a Confessor of Christ. In my correspondence with 
Flora I spoke only of my teaching. I found the 

171 



A PILGRIM MAID 

churches I served in need of warm, earnest, uplifting 
messages, and as they had enjoyed strong solid preach- 
ing hitherto, I could not depend on emotion in the 
place of real thought, or newness instead of sound doc- 
trine. My hours were full. My head and hands busy, 
my heart at peace. Why should I not feel well and 
be happy? 

After teaching three months I found my school so 
large as to need an assistant principal and O. P. Gifford 
secured me the desired helper in a fellow student of 
his from Brown University, E. G. Wooster, later in 
charge of Benedict Institute in South Carolina, who 
could come on condition that I obtain him a pulpit 
for preaching, Sabbaths. I secured him one at little 
Whitingham, on the mountain, where he went Satur- 
days after teaching four hours daily during the school 
week, returning Monday morning. We enjoyed to- 
gether a delightful friendship. Prof. Wooster was a 
true gentleman, a warm hearted, genial companion. 
Knowing him to be interested in the lady to whom I 
often mailed his letters, and who became by and by, 
his wife and efficient co-worker in the south, and 
knowing some other things just as surely, — as I recall 
those days of hard work together, and our pleasant 
evenings in our own cosy sitting room where we often 
read and chatted, I appreciate what Marie Corelli says 
in her latest book, "The Treasure of Heaven." 

"There is an unselfish Love. Not that of a lover, 
I knew this impossible. But Love, that most Godlike 
of all emotions, has many phases; and a merely sexual 
attraction is the least and poorest part of the divine 
passion. Believing there is a higher form, one far 

172 



FROM TEACHING TO PREACHING 

more perfect, in which Self has a little part," — I grate- 
fully record that Prof. Wooster helped me to be cer- 
tain of its existence. 

After a second term at Wilmington a vacation was 
in order, and Flora kindly invited me to spend a few 
days with her at Shelburne Falls till, in answer to my 
daily prayer a most needed door of service should open 
to me, of the Lord. 

A telegram was handed me one day which read 
"Will you go to Bellows Falls, Vermont, next Monday, 
to conduct a three weeks' series of Revival meetings 
with the Baptist Church?" I had never done such 
work. The telegram was signed, "The Estey Organ 
Co., Brattleboro, Vt.," whom I knew to be earnest, 
consecrated laymen whose dedicated money was build- 
ing Freedmen's Schools down South, helping Baptist 
churches and sustaining needy causes far and near. 
Would Flora oppose it? On an impulse, I handed her 
the telegram saying, "Were you I, would you go, 
Dear?" Flushing slightly, she replied, "Yes, Fannie, 
I think I should go." We had read together George 
Mueller's rules one of which is: "If in doubt as to a 
course of action, after sincerely praying for light, take 
the first answering impulse or suggestion, or provi- 
dence, and act upon it." So I went to Bellows Falls. 

Col. Fuller, afterwards Vermont's governor, son- 
in-law of Jacob Estey, met me en route, and said that 
on Pastor's Goodnow's recommendation the firm would 
like to engage my services for a season in Vermont, I 
to earn and receive from the churches where I labored, 
all needed finances for my living expenses. The Estey 
firm to reimburse me if I fell short of my actual needs. 

173 



A PILGRIM MAID 

As I objected to receiving financial support from any 
individual or corporation, or firm, I asked Our Father 
that I might live of the Gospel, and meet few emer- 
gencies necessitating dependence upon the friends who 
were, in calling me to their state-work, drawing a bow 
at a venture. 

My traveling expenses have been very heavy, 
since that day. My rest-days numerous, at Hotels 
and in different homes as a boarder, save for a few real 
friends 1 homes to be named as I proceed in my story; 
so I have not laid up money. I have given away, per- 
sistently and continually, one tenth or more of all I 
have ever earned, or received in gifts, and I have never 
been able to lay aside much for the proverbial rainy 
day. Once I had $500.00 thus saved. But now I 
have not half that, and have lived, and do now in 
faith for my daily bread, and suitable clothing for 
public services and travel among all classes of people. 
A well dressed woman exerts a better and wider in- 
fluence than one, however zealous a servant of the 
King, who appears shabbily costumed, before an au- 
dience. I have been especially blessed in my work, in 
helping women of culture and refinement and men of 
good social standing, never neglecting the illiterate or 
the very poor. 

Having no sermon-barrel at Bellows Falls, I had 
to devote some time daily to preparation for the even- 
ing services, and afternoon Bible Readings. The 
church was revived, and a number received as con- 
verts, and grateful that God owned my efforts in this 
my first series of evangelistic meetings, I took courage. 

In the fall of 1875, Rev. Chas. A. Piddock called 
174 



FROM TEACHING TO PREACHING 

me into Claremont, N. H., where the work was sig- 
nally blessed. Such a home as dear Pastor and Mrs. 
Piddock, with the dear baby, gave me, helped much 
toward the success of our labors. The crowded houses, 
the solemn interest, the Fast-Day service, are still 
fresh in my mind. Last October I thanked Dr. Pid- 
dock and wife at Hartford, who, after thirty-two years, 
recalled, with me our mutual labors. Mr. Piddock 
has so recently, after months of invalidism, been pro- 
moted to higher service that I very tenderly put upon 
record this memory of his loving, consecrated spirit. 
As I preached one evening on "Go out into the high- 
ways and hedges" and spoke about the hedgemen 
seeking to hide from God, and running away from 
church-services and responsibilities, with such thorny 
environment around them for workers to penetrate, a 
man before me, with a large family sitting around him, 
seemed strangely moved. When I closed he arose and 
said, "I'm a hedgeman and live two miles in the coun- 
try. We came here to rest, I telling wife we'd have a 
vacation from church work and keep still about our 
church letters a year or two, so we've stayed at home, 
been terribly backslidden, but the servant our sister 
put to work last week ferreted us out. Here we are! 
Wife, the boys and the little girls, and I! We'll bring 
in our church letters soon, if you want them. Pray, 
pray for us." 

While in Massachusetts, so near dear mother's 
grave, I had had many precious thoughts of her, with 
clearer understanding of what her widowhood meant 
of trial and suspense and hope. 

Miss Isabel Long, later in life of Holyoke, Mass., 
175 



A PILGRIM MAID 

was one of mother's few choice friends in youth, and 
I recall a brief visit she made us shortly after mother 
became a widow. My childish eyes followed her about 
with interest, and in my busier years I wrote her for 
some memories of my dear one and received a beauti- 
fully kind letter full of sweet tributes to my mother's 
Christian womanliness. She writes me: " After my 
father, Dr. Lawson Long, lelt S. Falls, I saw little of 
the old friends there, and as I was but nineteen at the 
time, there had been little soul companionship between 
your precious mother and me, though always a close 
friendship. After she came back, a widow, and the 
intervening years had been heavy enough for me, to 
make me understand and sympathize with suffering, 
and appreciate her bravery, there was real heart inter- 
course between us. During the visit to which you re- 
fer, your mother opened her private portfolio and gave 
me this slip therefrom, which, after thirty years, I 
gladly return to you." It is a bit called 4 'Six months 
since." 

"Six months since I gazed on all that is excellent 
and noble in man, and said in my fondness, 'In thine 
arm so powerful in its protective might is my safety 
and defence. 

Six months since one appeared mightier than my 
strong one, overpowering him in a moment, and leav- 
ing me unsupported and defenceless. 

Six months since earth received to her bosom my 
heart's treasure, and the light of my life was dimmed, 
never more to shine. 

Six months since the dreadful words "He is gone" 
fell upon my distracted ear so suddenly as mercifully 

176 



FROM TEACHING TO PREACHING 

to deaden, for a brief time the perception of their ter- 
rible meaning, yet burning into my heart of hearts the 
appalling, crushing, withering truth that the dearest 
joy of life had indeed forever passed away. 

Six months since the cup of trembling was ap- 
pointed me to drink, a widow's weeds to put on, and 
my feet, hitherto so sheltered and guarded were sud- 
denly turned into rough and unknown paths, to walk 
therein alone. 

A half year since the merry shout of boyhood and 
the prattle of infancy were hushed within my halls, 
and in their stead burst forth the bitter and passionate 
wail of young hearts as they struggled with their first 
great grief. 

Six months since I stood with my Fatherless ones 
looking our last on the loved clay so soon to be borne 
forever from our home, and thought as I gazed, 'What 
a wealth of love and confidence, and trust and hope 
may be garnered up in one human heart, and go down 
into one dark grave.' 

Six months since I looked into the clear depths 
of little eyes, and almost wished, (God forgive me!) 
they had not lived to see that day! Since I looked on 
the face of Nature and found it shrouded in sack- 
cloth; since I felt as I sought to view the lovely and 
beautiful in life, that they had indeed vanished from 
my sight. 

Six months since my spirit bowed before the Eter- 
nal and knew that He was my All, my only Helper/? 



177 



CHAPTER XXV. 
O'er Hill and Dale 

"If thou would'st have me speak, Lord, give me speech; 
So many cries are uttered, nowadays 

That scarce a song however clear or true 

Can thread the jostling tumult safe and reach 

The ears of men buzz-filled with poor denays; 

Barb thou my words with light ! make my songs new ! 
And men will hear, whether I sing or preach." 

During the next season I labored in the hill coun- 
try of Vermont, in So. Windham, Andover, Brookline, 
East Wallingford, and other small towns using such 
methods and making such efforts as the Holy Spirit 
suggested; for I felt constantly His inspiring, guiding 
presence and realized in very deed my constant need 
of His keeping, enriching grace. I had some trials, 
found it necessary to become all things to all men and 
some women, but was building up weak churches and 
winning souls in every field to Christ Jesus. 

I am particularly grateful that I could sing. Most 
of my solos were of my own making both words and 
music, but the Moody and Sankey hymns which, with 
some exceptions have never been excelled, were then 
new, and packed with sound doctrine which the peo- 
ple needed sung into them. 

Only a year ago I met in Hartford some ladies 
178 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

from Vermont who assured me they could recall my 
songs and their results long after the sermons were for- 
gotten. I sang and preached twice a day week after 
week. Some rich experiences came to me in the above 
fields and if I was too crowded with seekers after the 
Christ, I had only to send to Brattleboro for some of the 
organ company's band of Yoke fellows who were sent 
on by dear Deacon Estey to do personal work in the 
after meetings. 

Those were glorious days! Their memory is as 
precious as that of any that followed. In the spring 
of 1875 as the winter's work closed, Col. Fuller urged 
me to take charge for three months of the West Dum- 
merston Baptist Church, seven miles out of Brattleboro 
promising to bring his guests from Boston and New 
York City out to the Sabbath morning services. I ob- 
tained a boarding place at first at Dea. Greenwood's, 
near the church. He and his wife were very kind to me. 

Now, there had been trouble in this body (why 
do weak, smaller churches get to fighting among them- 
selves?) because of some local, political question which 
had roused animosity between a certain well-to-do and 
quite efficient brother and the rest of the church. It 
had resulted in the church calling a meeting and vot- 
ing to exclude, for reasons not proven, this good, but 
sometimes hasty brother, accusing him of what seemed 
so unworthy in their heated state of mind. They cast 
hirn from their membership, and lost not only his 
financial support, but far more his sympathy and pres- 
ence. That the brethren felt uneasy was evident and 
that they expected me to do something toward recon- 
ciling the contending forces was made very apparent. 

179 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I asked what they had done. They "didn't know how 
to go about it." I preached to full houses, to people 
from all the country side, and the promised city guests 
two Sabbath sermons, and led a twilight prayer service 
every week, presenting the gospel of love and peace, 
and forgiving kindness to hearts growing tenderer and 
minds gradually softening. 

Dea. Estey begged me to do my best to unite this 
church. I prayed and waited. Finally I visited the 
"refractory brother" and found him willing to converse 
freely, but sure the church had falsely accused him. 
This the deacons finally admitted. The brother also 
by tactful treatment acknowledged that he had spok- 
en unadvisedly with his lips, and was hungry for the 
house of God. He brought his wife to church Sab- 
baths and sat outside listening to my prayers and ser- 
mons all summer. At length I gained a confession 
from the church which they allowed me to put into 
writing, stating that they had been unkind, false and 
criminally unjust, and inviting him to return to their 
membership and service. I gave him in conversation 
the substance of the confession which I insisted must 
appear in the county papers as his exclusion had been 
so published. On my last Sabbath in West Dummers- 
ton, Mr. Stickney was taken into the church with his 
wife, and wept as tender tears as did the rest of the 
crowded congregation. At the sermon's close, I read 
the paper of confession, the church standing, and then 
turning to him, I said Bro. Stickney, do you today 
accept with no farther words on the subject, (I was 
so afraid he would wish to talk) this confession of the 
West Dummerston Baptist Church with their request 

180 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

that you return today to its membership? "I do!" was 
his broken reply. Then he came forward and amid 
the sobs and amens of the church and congregation I 
gave him, as authorized, the right hand of welcome 
and church fellowship. It was a blessed day in that 
Israel. 

Mr. Fuller and Deacon Estey reported it to the 
Boston Watchman and wrote me these words: 
"Dear Christian Sister, 

And now may the grace of the Lord be and abide 
with the West Dummerston Church. You can well 
afford to leave the field. The reconciling of the quar- 
relsome is a fitting close to your labors there. We feel 
that about Oct. 1st. will prove a good time to hold 
some more evangelistic services. Rev. Mark Carpenter 
and others write us approvingly and the rest of our 
dear friends will yet see eye to eye, and not through a 
double-barreled eye-glass of prejudice— darkly." 

I found while boarding at the Greenwood's that 
the deacon objected to a large evergreen cross, the 
young people had put together and placed behind the 
pulpit on a large space of white wall against which 
they said I looked like a little black fly. (I was very 
slender and small in those days.) It was a relief to 
me to have this fresh, fragrant, green decoration in 
the plain little church. But to the deacon it was a 
rank tribute to Papacy, and I ordered it removed for 
his sake; but the dear soul went to the janitor and 
said, "Leave it there! If she likes it, it shall stay! She 
can have a rosary and the virgin's picture there too, 
if its any comfort to her." So it stayed till before 
leaving town I had it removed. The church secured 

181 



A PILGRIM MAID 

a pastor soon, and has since gone on doing excellent 
work. 

In West Dummerston I conducted my first me- 
morial day exercises, held my first funeral services, af- 
ter which Mrs. Greenwood expressed herself willing to 
die, if only I would come and officiate at her funeral. 

One morning I was studying in her parlor when 
she rushed in from the kitchen and the bread-pan and 
planting herself directly before me, and fixing her lit- 
tle black eyes on my face, said, "You're going to 
board elsewhere in a few days. Now I want to know 
something! Miss Townsley, where's your lover?" I 
knew I must not flinch or waver. So keeping my 
frightened face and bewildered eyes straight toward 
her, I asked, "Sister Greenwood, did any body tell you 
to ask me that?" "Yes" answered Mrs. Greenwood, 
"At the sewing circle yesterday the ladies all said you 
must have had an affair sometime and told me to find 
out; so, where's your lover?" Keeping my eyes on 
her own, I said, "Well, Mrs. Greenwood, go to the 
next sewing circle, and say to the sisters, that, taking 
advantage of my being under your roof, you asked 
me just that, and then tell them that you don't know 
any more about it now than you did before." 

I resumed my studying and she trotted back to 
her bread-pan. Between the kneadings of her dough 
I could hear her mutter — "umph! Tell 'em — yes — tell 
'em I asked her — don't known — don't know — Well' — 
Guess I'll have to!" 

I soon went to board with a lovely christian wom- 
an named Leonard upon the hill, across the clearest 
musical brook, where I had a home indeed and fellow- 

182 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

ship and sympathy. Her husband's mother sat in 
the window corner, and thought as tenderly of the de- 
parted son as Mrs. Leonard did of the husband, but 
they each had a greater grief in the departure of the 
younger son who "went away" to join the regular 
army, and was at New Orleans. During the summer 
Mrs. L., received a telegram that Frank was very ill 
with cholora. The next day in the P. O. a special 
messenger handed me a telegram announcing the 
boy's death. I opened it as I had asked the mother's 
permission to do and hurried to her side. "Your son 
has been worse" I said. "Tell me all" she insisted. 
I sat her down on the sofa and putting my arm around 
her asked, "My sister have you a God today?" "Yes" 
she replied, and though my boy is gone, the everlast- 
ing arms are about me. I can trust." 

Before Sabbath she asked me to hold a special 
afternoon service in memory of her son; though sani- 
tary regulations forbade the sending home of his body. 
She came to my little study on Saturday to say, "We 
shall be present; but I wish you to utter as if we were 
not, any words of warning or entreaty to young men 
you feel led to say. Frank was not a believer in 
Christ." Brave soul! How glad were we all, soon, to 
receive the assurance of his acceptance and confes- 
sion of Christ while in the army. 

Many precious memories came to me of that hap- 
py little summer in which I wrote my first sermons 
for a settled charge, some of which were the founda- 
tions of later ones used far away and in larger fields. 
It was hard to sever these tender ties, but I had prom- 
ised to conduct meetings in Townshend where was a 

183 



A PILGRIM MAID 

well known Academy. My headquarters were at the 
Brattleboro House in Brattleboro, owned by theEstey 
firm, where I often rested at one dollar a day during 
the next two years paying thus only one half usual 
rates. 

In October, Col. Fuller said that on the top of a 
mountain ridge was little Woodford, where was a Con- 
gregational chapel and a few houses. Once driving 
through on his way to Saratoga he had promised to 
bring me and two Yoke fellows there for two days, 
when he could find time, and "Would I go?" "Yes/' 
So the Col. took his wife and brother, I. O. P. Smith, 
one of his best personal workers, and another young 
man and myself in his double carriage and we went to 
Woodford. I was entertained by the Park Sisters, 
elderly ladies, who had the little Post office there,— 
ladies of much culture and closely related to Legislator 
W. Park. Such cookery! such china! such courtesy! 

The others went home in a day or two, leaving 
me there for a nine days' meeting. Before they left, 
Col. Fuller and his friends took me on a lumber rail- 
way through the dense forest to a camp of lumbermen 
and their wives, where we had a fine dinner and an 
afternoon meeting in the little parlor o v f one of the 
cabins. Among other results one of the Misses Park, 
there openly for the first time confessed Christ and 
vowed her life to His service! 

After nine days' work I rode down the mountain 
in a pouring rain, to old Wilmington, to rest a few days 
at the home of my former pupil, Cora Field, whose 
ministerial father was south, but physically no better, 
than when I preached for him while Cora's teacher. 

184 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

At Townshend, a large number professed conver- 
sion, a great awakening crowned our labors, and I 
learned many helpful lessons. 

Sometime before, in a leading Baptist periodical 
appeared a little slip, criticising the Vermont churches 
for employing a woman "with no credit to themselves 
or to her!" Now this last clause might be variously 
construed. It stung me to the quick! Should I reply 
to it? This had not been my custom. But I asked one 
one or two who were prominent friends of mine, to 
suggest its possibility of vulgar construction and re- 
buke its author, whoever he might be, but in vain. I 
had no idea who wrote the words. He signed no 
name. Later, I was in his pulpit at work, at his ear- 
nest call. 

One afternoon the Bible reading was on Love, 
and at its close I opened a question box. It contain- 
ed a question by "one who had been bitterly wronged 
in a sly, insinuating manner, with no possibility of 
reply." How far should a forgiving spirit go? 

I had been trying to explain that a great sense of 
peace often came to the soul who could leave the 
righting of its wrongs with the Father and meanwhile 
trust and forgive. Close questioning came to me from 
the audience and I finally spoke by way of illustration 
of the newspaper item named above, of all it meant to 
a homeless orphan among comparative strangers, 
frail in health, having sacrificed and dared much in 
becoming a Baptist, with no human friend willing to 
answer the foe firing from an ambush, and concealing 
his identity from his hapless victim. 

On reaching my boarding place the following con- 
185 



A PILGRIM MAID 

versation took place between my motherly hostess 
and myself. "Miss Townsley, did you know that our 
pastor wrote that slur on you?" "No! Positively I 
never suspected such a thing!" "Never had a hint of 
it?" "Do you dream I would have used today's illus- 
tration in his presence if I had?" "Well, I'm going 
to inform you that he did! Some of us reproved him 
for it and we all agreed that he should atone by call- 
ing you to hold meetings with us, or be invited to re- 
sign. So — you are here!" 

I had noticed the strange expression on the pas- 
tor's face, and the hurried manner of his closing bene- 
diction, that day, and I was glad to be in my place 
instead of his. 

In 1876 I held a few meetings with the church at 
Brattleboro under Dr. Burchard. And early in Feb- 
ruary hurried to Wales, Massachusetts, to assist Rev. 
John D. Shepardson in the Baptist church of which 
Elijah Shaw — benefactor of Shaw University was a 
member, and his wife my hostess. I must record two 
incidents of this meeting. 

Among many gathered for help in the after meet- 
ing one evening were two girls from the Shaw Mills of 
the very rough set. They came to scoff and it was 
soon manifest to me. I bade them leave, to re- 
turn when they seriously desired Christ. They sneer- 
ed and scoffed daring "your Holy Spirit to touch" 
them. As they passed out, I said "Girls, at ten 
o'clock I shall be on my knees asking the Holy Spirit 
to shake you from head to heels!" 

I kept my promise. Shortly after I left Wales, 
the pastor wrote me that the girls had come into an 

186 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

evening meeting crying aloud for mercy saying "The 
woman's Holy Ghost is shaking us over perdition. 
We are lost! Help us, we beg!" They were soon sav- 
ed and joined the church to become witnessess to the 
power of the Holy Spirit of our God. 

At the same place a mother begged me to pray 
for her son, "He is a libertine, a gambler — the wick- 
edest man in Wales!" "How do you treat him?" I 
asked. "O, I pray for him and of late the tears run 
down my cheeks constantly, I am so burdened in his 
presence." "Do you manifest much of the joy of the 
Lord?" I queried. "Joy? I am in sorrow, not joy." 
"But he has no appreciation of either the sorrow or 
joy of a true christian," I suggested, and then asked — 
"Does he like cream biscuits?" With bewilderment 
she said "He's very fond of them!" "Well then; prom- 
ise me this: that he shall have some tonight for his 
supper, also that he shall find you singing "We praise 
thee O Lord," when he comes into the house tonight, 
and that you greet him with a kiss. Promise me/" 
She promised and hurried home. 

That evening in the inquiry room I sat down be- 
side a man who announced himself as "the wickedest 
man in Wales, a gambler and a profligate." "Go on" 
1 said. "Tonight on going home I found my mother, 
a devoted christian woman whose head has been a 
fountain of tears ever since you came here, shouting 
"We praise Thee O Lord for the Son of Thy Love," 
and wiping tears meanwhile from her cheeks with a 
big roller towel; she actually kissed me and announced 
my favorite dish, cream biscuits for supper, so I offered 
to come with her this evening. Now please pray for 

187 



A PILGRIM MAID 

me?" — As I was rising from my knees after this peni- 
tent had given himself to the pitiful and powerful Sa- 
vior I saw the mother bringing in another youth from 
the vestibule. I beckoned her to "kneel here by a 
man who is seeking the Lord." As he turned his 
shinging face toward her she gave one mighty cry of 
gladness and I left them together to pray it and praise 
it out by themselves. 

But on I must go weary but grateful. March 
found me in Fair Haven assisting Rev. Dwight Spen- 
cer, where I spent four busy weeks, entertained by 
Col., and Mrs. Allen whose home has sheltered so 
many servants of our God and whose family altar 
brought the large household together in most delight- 
ful fellowship each morning. I can see them all there 
as of old — the youngest, my companion in song, who 
has now joined the singers above, the dear Hattie Al- 
len, who, as Mrs. Merrick of Holyoke, is still dispens- 
ing sunshine and charity somewhere, and Mrs. Juliza 
Spencer, making through after years a home for her 
famous pianist son, then the little boy Harvey, who 
nestled at our feet, and Mrs. Dyer, who to-day sings 
the new song we have not yet learned as fully as she, 
and the kind, courteous Colonel, a Baptist pillar, and 
his hospitable wife, suggesting for her favorite hymn, 
"And shall it be that I should gain?" and Major Doug- 
lass Allen, the genial young gentleman of the family, 
generally selecting "The Light of the World is Jesus;" 
and the prayers of that sacred hour each day did much 
to strengthen me for the arduous work that fell to me 
in ever remembered Fair Haven. 

Hardly one of that household remains this side 
188 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

the River. If we did not believe in the words, "In 
my Father's house are many mansions, I will come and 
receive you unto Myself," family affection would be a 
farce, and love of kindred a constant disappointment. 
God grant we may all meet " Where the ransomed 
voices mingle, And the angel harps do ring!'' 

In some of the hill towns of Vermont, I met Capt. 
Geo. E. Davis of Vermont's Y. M. C. A. force, and was 
permitted to labor in soul-winning with him and his 
associates, learning much as to the "How" of Personal 
Work. We have always been warm friends, and my 
first Bagster Bible was a gift from Geo. E. Davis, and 
Linus Sherman, and A. J. Giffin, who at South Wind- 
ham aided me in my work as they were just closing 
their own there. 

Rev. Dr. Spencer's companionship at Fair Haven 
was a great mental uplift to me, as he could answer 
so many questions I needed to ask concerning truths 
and doctrines I was seeking to more fully understand. 
Neither shall I forget his brave, sweet wife, who so 
long kept the home altar fires burning for the children 
and for the husband while the latter was toiling in 
Home Missionary work in the needy west. 

But my brother's love is the cord drawing me 
again westward, and I go for a change, and perhaps 
rest, to Wheaton, Illinois, stopping in Chicago to speak 
several evenings at the Lincoln Park Church, then to 
visit Miss Buck, my college friend, and am invited to 
preach Sabbath morning in the College Chapel, where 
President Blanchard, Dr. Walker and a host of old 
friends gave me their hearty welcome and tender God- 
speed. 

189 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Right here, to bear out a statement that I was 
not suffering with the blues as during the winter be- 
fore my call to this work in Michigan, I had written 
this letter on one of my tired vacation days, to the 
young lady who soon after became my traveling com- 
panion, the Miss Buck who above is named as my 
hostess at Wheaton. 

"I understand your desire for work which shall 
fill your hands and satisfy your heart. 

I have no faith in the sentimentality which says, 
mistaking itself for contentment, "Sit still! Be at 
ease though you know you are not doing all you might. 
It is your business to be quiet about it." I know there 
are circumstances which keep us bound hand and foot, 
sometimes, so that we may learn patient endurance, 
but I believe with Mrs. Browning, the hem of whose 
garment I hope to be permitted to touch in the Here- 
after, "Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease. 11 I pray 
daily, dear friend, that Our Father will open the right 
way for the use of your powers, in a service that shall 
make you happy. Meanwhile / am kept back, held 
down by physical frailty. Shall I never be strong? 
Why was I suffered to be injured in that carriage ac- 
cident that left my spine in a weak and painful condi- 
tion, two or three years ago? You call me "energetic." 
Remember W T hitter's 

"Nobler than any fact 
My wish that failed of act; 
Sweeter than any sung 
My songs that found no tongue. " 
I wish you would consider, dear, in your burdened 
home-life that there is a noble, needed work to be 

190 



O'ER HILL AND DALE 

done at the fireside. Over the many who come for a 
day or a night under your roof, you are unconsciously 
wielding a subtle influence. You and I both know 
there is not one home in a thousand what it ought to 
be. To show to the world as far as one can, one bright, 
true Home is worth hours of daily toil, self-denial and 
prayer. Your "pie and pudding making" isn't such a 
poor "work" after all. Why they are even now agi- 
tating the question "What do we eat?" and talking of 
schools for the training of cooks. I'd like to attend 
one. One woman cooks such poor, plain food that 
those who live with her go hungry, and her neighbor 
concocts such poor, rich dishes that those who partake 
thereof have dyspepsia. I suppose "a golden mean" 
is as desirable in cookery as in anything. 

By the way, I found a fine definition of Common 
Sense the other day, and sent it on to my most sensi- 
ble friend. "The instinctive action of right reason 
discriminating with a rapidity of thought, and a sort 
of taste, what is or is not suitable in any given sit- 
uation." 

"The mountain airs, and change of scene are do- 
ing me good; I am not as some time ago, hypochon- 
driac, or having Day* Mare, as Chas. Lamb terms it, 
compared with which the Night-Mare is as a tiny 
homeopathic pill beside a bottle of Cod Liver Oil. At 
such times I have been indifferent alike to the hatred 
of my most implacable foes, and the fawning of the 
most persistent flatterer! In fact, where once I had 
the insensibility of an oyster, with far less usefulness, 
I am now awake, alert, active and aspiring. So much 
for the breath of these New England hillsides. Once 

191 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Science could not woo me. Art presented her charms 
in vain. Hope was a myth, Faith a big interrogation 
point, and Love an untaught boy with two (too) eager 
wings. Now — well I have been winding up my two 
months' trip with a visit to the Hub of the Universe — 
It is sometimes well to be properly wound up. 

I read with interest many things, and in a recent 
work am reminded that Michael Angelo defined "beau- 
ty" as "the purgation of all superfluities" — That grows 
on me! Think it out. One great as Angelo said, 
"Let us cast aside every weight and the sin that doth 
so easily beset us" — 

I suppose on my return I shall see many things 
that remind me of what I saw in the East, and like 
the girl in the Hoosier School Master, shall assert that 
the Illinois "horses switch their tails" exactly as do 
"the horses in Bosting." Wait and see! 

My gift of song was used often when sermons fail- 
ed, to lead a soul to Christ, or to holier living. 

Among my favorites in New England were, beside 
the best of the Moody and Sankey Hymns, — 

The Ninety and nine, 

Christ is knocking, 

Thine afterward, Lord, 

Say, is your lamp burning? 

Cast thy bread upon the waters, 

Your mission, 

His hands, 

Lift me higher, 
the last five being my own music, or words, sometimes 
both. And Miss Buck was a most skillful accompan- 
ist, helping to express what I wanted to sing into 
men's ears and hearts. 

192 



CHAPTER XXVI. 
Through Vermont Snow Drifts 

"Far, far away like bells at evening pealing, 
The Voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea; 
And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing, 
Kind Shepherd, turn tneir weary steps to Thee." 

In Chicago I found my brother very frail but 
brave. At this time I had received little in the way 
of indorsement from him in my work. He knew I held 
myself ready to stop at any hour we might plan a 
more restful home-life for him. But the income would 
stop in a large measure then, as his physical condition 
prevented his earning more than a living salary and 
soon he began to take long journeys to the far west, 
in desperate hope to recover health. What his super- 
sensitive nature suffered, what mental and bodily tor- 
tures were for the next eight years, I hope Heaven has 
taught him to forget. Lying down each night, those 
years of most fatiguing labors, I offered my last con- 
scious prayer for my brother, and on awaking at dawn 
my first petition was for his protection and help. To 
be near him I remained west the summer of my return 
to Chicago, but the cry of my heart for a home for 
and with him, was unknown to all but God. During 
six weeks of my stay at Wheaton, where I boarded at 
the home of my friend, Miss Buck, I supplied the Bap- 

193 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tist pulpit in the pastor's vacation absence, spoke at 
Sunday School conventions, gave Bible Readings, here 
and there around Chicago, and so — rested! 

But I could see Frank frequently. 

During this summer arose the question of my 
taking a traveling companion with me the coming fall. 
It was finally decided that Miss Buck, who offered her- 
self, accompany me, to care for me, firstly, and to serve 
as my organist, and do personal work in the after- 
meetings. I was pledged to pay her a certain amount 
monthly, in addition, of course, to her traveling ex- 
penses, whatever my receipts. For one who had hith- 
erto known nothing of such work, it was a great un- 
dertaking for her. She had met among personal 
friends, a certain type of opposition to evangelical 
truth, and could easily meet the arguments and shal- 
low suggestions of such people. More than that, she 
was inwardly drawn to work of some such sort as this, 
and it was a great relief to me to be cared for so kind- 
ly and helped in a thousand un-nameable ways by one 
so competent and willing to aid me. For four years 
she travelled with me, caring tenderly for me in my 
frequent illnesses, defending me in places of opposition, 
with logic as clear and cogent as her affection was 
strong. Meanwhile, her parents removed from Whea- 
ton to Maywood, a suburb near Chicago, and I engaged 
board and rooms there, calling Maywood home for 
the next ten years. There I brought my books and 
pictures and desk, and there I spent my summers. My 
first engagement in the fall of 1876 brought us to West 
Pawlet, Vermont, where my helper offered possibly her 
first public prayer, in an audience of 800 people, a 

194 



THROUGH VERMONT SNOW DRIFTS 

prayer I could not have dreamed could come from the 
lips of so new a helper, and so we began a work which 
God owned in a mighty awakening in the Congrega- 
tional church under the pastoral care of J. F. Aiken. 
One Sabbath Dr. Prentiss, of the Union Theological 
Seminary of New York State drove over from Dorset, 
their country seat, with his gifted wife, Elizabeth Pay- 
son Prentiss, so I met one of whom I had read much. 
We rested at my Fair Haven Elim with the family of 
Colonel Allen, who hospitably entertained us both. 

Miss Buck did energetic work in the Inquiry meet- 
ings, with noticeable results. After a meeting with 
the Sharon, Vermont, Baptist Church we went to 
Farmington, Maine, going through the White Moun- 
tains, spending a Sabbath of rest at the Fabyan House, 
passing on Monday through the Notch, in time reach- 
ing Portland, Maine. 

We felt the expense of this journey, but the op- 
portunity might prove one of a life-time, and the call 
of the Farmington Pastor was very urgent. No one 
met us at the station, so we went to a hotel for supper 
and notified the Pastor of our arrival. He was a 
peculiar type of minister, recently ordained, newly 
fledged from Newton Seminary, and absented himself 
from the forenoon services one day "to get shaved/ ' 
another (rainy) day because "his rubbers leaked," and 
one day, as I was coming down with a malarial fever- 
attack, when I sent him word he must speak in my 
place that eve, tried his best to evade it, at the last 
preaching a previous Sabbath's sermon on the book 
of Galatians, and called next morning to say he didn't 
believe I was sick, but only thought so, which was 

195 



A PILGRIM MAID 

comforting! Miss Buck had charge of the work and 
of sick me, and of him, either of which last two was 
enough. At the end of many days we hurried back to 
rest at Brattleboro; some good work was wrought at 
Farmington. I have heard since that this young pas- 
tor soon after rededicated himself to God and became 
a successful winner of souls. I heartily hope this is 
true, to the honor of our Lord. In December we went 
to Danby, Vermont, and labored a few days with, I 
know, some good results. 

The memories that cluster around North Walling- 
ford, Vermont, are crowded with precious instances of 
God's saving grace — scores of people in coldest weather 
came twice daily to the services, and the conversions 
were very many. Pastor Conover was helpful in every 
sense. I recall particularly the conversion of three 
leaders in social life, young men whose record had 
been anything but holy. They came to me and told 
me of evils I could hardly hear repeated. The type 
of conversion of these, and of many of that period in 
church work, is expressed in the accompanying letter 
written by one of these three: 
Dear Friend: — 

I well know your time is fully occupied, but I 
cannot refrain from telling you how I am getting 
along. I love my Savior and am happily walking in 
the right path that leads to His feet. I am fully re- 
solved that during the remainder of my days my in- 
fluence shall be given to His cause. I regard the 
world so differently! My mind had always run upon 
the things of this world, but I see much I once loved 
as hollow vanity now. I see my path of duty, and I 

196 



THROUGH VERMONT SNOW DRIFTS 

mean without deviation to follow it, steadily to its 
end. I must live as a Christian ought to! Every day 
and every hour as my Savior wishes me. I must live 
morally , purely, religiously, carrying my religion with 
me everywhere! In my social relations, in my busi- 
ness, I must set a Christian example for others. Fve 
long been blundering along a dark road but recently 
my feet have been set in a bright and lovely Way that 
leads to Immortal Blessedness. I have taken hold on 
Him who will not let me "go back." 

Another of the three writes, "I once disliked the 
Sabbath, but now every Sunday finds me in the Sun- 
day School. I often review the life I have lived. I 
cannot think myself the same man. But God is help- 
ing me every day. All of the converts are doing 
pretty well. I pray the work may go on. To express 
my sentiments toward you, Miss Townsley, is impos- 
sible. I owe you a debt I may never repay! You 
have been used of God to turn the whole course of my 
life, and rescue me from Destruction, and to teach me 
how to live for others, which the death bed scene of 
my Christian mother could not somehow effect. God 
bless you! Could you hear the grateful things said 
of you here to-day your eyes would moisten. Every 
night, on my bended knees, I pray as earnestly as I 
know how that you may be cared for and have health 
and strength and comfort. Look upon me as not only 
a friend saved, but as a personal brother who would 
be glad to aid you in any possible way." 

Grafton Vt., Jan., 1878 finds us way up in the 
mountain-snows with the Baptist church, and among 
the converts I recall two little brothers whose earnest 

197 



A PILGRIM MAID 

faces looked up into mine daily from the front seat. 
One is now a christain business man, the other recent- 
ly wrote me of his labors as pastor of an important 
Baptist church. 

God bless all little lads! My heart has ever been 
especially tender toward these, partly because of the 
two of my long ago, the Willie and Frank who are 
now "where they never grow old!" 

My church members in the west used to say, 
"Miss Townsley is good to the girls. They bring their 
essays to correct, and their love affairs for council, 
but it's the small boy who gets the loving pat on the 
head round the corner of the church!" 

Now we drive many miles on, through deeper 
snows and colder air and are at Weston where two 
pastors help win moralists, merchants and burly farm- 
ers to our Lord. At Weston I needed a short ride one 
weary day, and asked our Father for it. He granted 
it through the kindness of a lady who drove many 
miles in her beautiful sleigh to seek my forgiveness 
for a wrong wrought years before. I, too, was per- 
mitted to ask her forgiveness for a share in the wrong. 

One day my assistant and I prayed together for 
a slight change in our diet, not selfishly, but that with 
digestive organs uninjured we might better serve, and 
the change came, within twenty four hours. 

I have often been hindered in my work by the 
strange notion of hostessess that preaching twice a 
day, and holding inquiry meetings and conducting a 
large correspondence was work requiring tea, cookies 
and sauce for the main diet. More than once my 
companion in service, braver some ways than I, has 

198 



THROUGH VERMONT SNOW DRIFTS 

gone to the kitchen to politely ask for some nourishing 
food, often when whole quarters of beef, and roasts of 
mutton or pork were hanging in the shed, uncooked 
because the friend sheltering us thought that " pious 
folks" and "preachers" preferred cake, tea and tarts 
to more substantial diet. But when my helper's re- 
quest was granted, didn't the mistaken entertainer 
see proven her mistake! 

Our close contact with our Leader and the con- 
tinualy acknowledged dependence on Him, was our 
only surety, our constant refuge! O, how precious 
that secret place of the Most High! 

Eleven miles over a fearful road brought us to a 
railway station where we took the train for our friends 7 
home at Poultney, to rest all one ever can, where 
evangelistic services have been previously conducted. 

Somehow, God has specially provided friends for 
me in the time I have needed them most. What a 
responsibility friendship incurs! 

On to beautiful Burlington, where we were enter- 
tained at tea before driving twelve miles that cold, 
starlit night to Hinesburgh, riding across fields, over 
the tops of fences, only thrown out on turning a cor- 
ner, once, and reached the Harmon-Beecher household 
at two A. M. and began the enjoyment of three weeks' 
hospitality under this roof while we conducted meet- 
ings which we recall with a thrill of mighty joy! 

Here Rev. W. D. Smock (long years afterwards 
living and dying in Chicago for the salvation and 
teaching of fallen girls), had labored earnestly to con- 
quer prejudice, that we might have a wide open door 
at Hinesburgh. It took me long to realize how bless- 

199 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ed the work at Hinesburgh was. Whole families, 
women who were social leaders, and strong men were 
among those who years afterward testified to the gen- 
uineness of their conversion that blessed month of toil. 

Then a long sleigh-ride to an inland town, Bristol, 
where the Methodist pastor when invited to unite 
with the Baptist Church in our call answered that he 
was "sent to Bristol to build up the Methodist church/ 7 
which we never doubted, but feared the five or six re- 
form lectures for which he billed the town while we 
were there, would not, under existing circumstances 
produce that effect. 

A prominent lawyer was brought to our services 
and to Christ and became a Sunday School Teacher, 
though he had been addicted to the use of strong 
drink. Weary? Yes, we were. To rest me comes a 
lovely letter from my sister Flora Lamson from which 
I make a brief extract with renewed gratitude to our 
faithful Jehovah. 

"I believe I never told you in so many words that 
I think the Lord has called you to the work you are 
doing. In consideration of what I have said in times 
past I say it now. I used to ask Jesus if it was not his 
own way for you, to shut the door against it, so that 
you should know exactly, and if it was His way, to 
take away all opposition from my feelings. And I have 
become satisfied that you were doing His will. I say 
it now when it will have no influence one way or an- 
other in deciding you, because it is simple candor to 
acknowledge a change in one's opinion or feeling. All 
I have to say is, let us both seek only to know and do 
the will of our Master." 

200 



THROUGH VERMONT SNOW DRIFTS 

Greenwich, N. Y., was a memorable field, with 
Baptist and Methodist Episcopal Churches uniting. 
The pastor of the Dutch Reformed Church joined in 
the work with his people. One hundred and seventy- 
five passed into the Inquiry meeting sometimes, the 
Pastors and others taking turns in leading a twenty 
minutes' meeting for prayer and testimony (mostly of 
new converts or reclaimed professors) meanwhile in 
the main room. It is but just to state that the 
churches of Greenwich were in an excellent state of 
preparation on our arrival. How much depends on 
good pastors and praying members! The need of to- 
day is less dependence on numbers, machinery, men 
and methods, and more on God, the Prayer-hearing, 
the prayer- answering Jehovah! The following was 
prepared by the Greenwich pastor sometime after our 
services closed. 

"THE REVIVAL INTEREST.— It is a good 
many years since such a deep and general revival and 
religious activity have been manifest in Greenwich as 
the present winter. Little excitement has marked the 
exercises, and no more enthusiasm than ought to be 
expected continually in such momentous interests; but 
there has been the frequent, prevailing prayer, the 
power of a living faith and the persistent earnestness 
of united efforts, and these elements combined and 
divinely directed will surely gain conquests for Christ 
in every good work. By the more complete consecra- 
tion of the church to Christ, by continued special ser- 
vices and by the outpouring of God's spirit, the way 
had been well prepared for the lady evangelists who 
have so recently left our midst bearing the Christian 

201 



A PILGRIM MAID 

esteem and best wishes of a multitude of the best 
minded Christians in the community. We do not in- 
dorse depending on extra evangelistic efforts to resur- 
rect a "valley of dry bones" or to resuscitate a dead 
church. The pastor of his people ought to be found 
in the midst of earnest revival effort when the evan- 
gelist, as a specialty in the spiritual economy, is invit- 
ed to engage in the work and assist the church in the 
good cause, just when such aid is most needed to more 
generally reach the community, and gather families 
into the fold of Christ. Such was the condition of 
some of the churches in this place when Miss Townsley 
and her worthy assistant came into this community 
to aid the pastors in their arduous work. Wisely was 
the plan perfected for their coming, and well did they 
meet the expectations of those most anxious for effi- 
cient aid in the revival services. 

No such continued crowds evening after evening- 
had ever so filled any church in this place as flocked to 
the large Methodist church and completely filled its 
spacious auditorium at almost every evening. The 
farewell service last Thursday evening was doubtless 
the largest congregation ever contained in this church, 
even exceeding in numbers the crowd present on the 
day of its dedication. — And weeks after, we affirm the 
churches are greatly strengthened and encouraged and 
fervent prayers are still being offered for sinners; 
the common congregations are still increasing, the 
study of the Word is more common, family altars are 
still being erected; drunkeness and disorder are lessen- 
ed in our streets; — the work continues. To God be 
glory. Nearly two hundred people found church 

202 



THROUGH VERMONT SNOW DRIFTS 

homes and only lack of space prevents the repetition 
of many notable conversions to God." 

As to the work at West Cornwall, Vermont, I let 
Pastor Kellogg report. 

WEST CORNWALL. 

"Miss Townsley, aided by Miss Buck, is at West 
Cornwall, where, in their meetings for the last four 
days, forty-five have professed to give themselves to 
Christ. Some of these are heads of families; some 
backsliders, whom Miss Townsley says are well named 
thus, for they are "sliding on their backs instead of 
walking on their feet, bravely and uniformly forward." 
"Plain preaching, with Christian love to prompt it, a- 
grees with the people here, and God is being honored." 

The Congregational pastor of Williamstown, Ver- 
mont, next reports of the work there, mid deep snows, 
when people wrapped in furs, rode ten to fifteen miles 
to attend meetings, two daily. 

WILLIAMSTOWN. 

Miss Townsley and Miss Buck have concluded 
eleven days' meetings with the Congregational church 
in Williamstown. The effort results in the hopeful 
conversion of between fifty and sixty, many of whom 
are heads of families and from important positions in 
society. One convert is over eighty years old; several 
have been reclaimed from drink and profanity. Chris- 
tians are aroused. The interest began with the work, 
and the best of the wine came the last day of the feast. 
Whatever opinion a person entertains about women 
preachers, he cannot speak against these sisters or 
their work to this people without seeing his judgment 
of divine truth less esteemed." 

203 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I must stop to relate how tenderly and providen- 
tially Our Father had opened for us a place of rest and 
recuperation between fields, at Fair Haven, Vt., in the 
home of Dea. John Smith and his devoted wife, and 
their daughter, Sophia, now Mrs. Thos. Martin of 
Hartford, Ct. There as nowhere else did I rest, pray, 
plan. There I found sisterly, motherly interest, care 
in illnesses frequent, love in lonely hours, sympathy 
in my toils so precious. When Dea. Smith removed, 
with worn body and bewildered mind, Fair Haven 
Baptists lost a staunch helper, and in his wife a saint. 
In the daughter a most efficient, generous and sincere 
helper. Her income as a book-keeper was faithfully 
tithed. In Christian, systematic beneficence, her help 
granted me in a thousand tokens and nameless minis- 
tries is recorded on high, where both her parents are 
followed with the grateful affection and loyal esteem 
of many beside myself whom their home has sheltered. 



204 



CHAPTER XXVII. 
Licensed to Preach 

"Mother may I go and swim? 
Yes, my darling daughter, 
Hang your clothes on a hickory limb, 
But don't go near the water !" 

Had I been toiling as a preacher, these busy years, 
with no recognition or endorsement from the church 
into whose membership I had come through so much 
struggle? 

Nay, verily ! 

After I had worked about a year in Vermont, the 
Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, church decided at a 
church meeting that it would be the kind thing to li- 
cense me and so express their interest and approval. 
Had I then dreamed of writing this book I should have 
kept that document for spice! 

Pastor Evans wrote a kind note, saying the church 
was glad that God was so signally owning my services 
and the license(?) said the same. It was a lengthy 
document with whereas-es enough for a lawyer's paper 
or a series of resolutions of a political party. I remem- 
ber much of it. In the first "whereas," expressing grat- 
itude above referred to, was also the wish to record me 
as one of their own members, and the hope God would 
continue to use me. Then followed, as I recall them, 

205 



A PILGRIM MAID 

whereas-es, as to the fear that I might infer some 
greater sanction than the paper meant; and " whereas 
it was not the wish of said church to endorse anything 
subversive of God's purposes as to womankind in gen- 
eral, for example, the recognition of woman in the 
pastoral office, or usurping authority over man," and 
some more similarly worded conditions, yet the church 
hereby sent their " approbation and prayer-laden God- 
speed and recorded me as licensed to go on with the 
work I had been doing," etc., etc. 

Now, my trunk was pretty heavy anyway. More- 
over, a cold winter seemed approaching and I might 
be sorely tempted to use that dry document for fuel ; 
and I had now a license written in tears and my own 
heart's blood, and signed long before, by the great 
Head of the church. 

I folded this historic paper and mailed it back to 
the Shelburne Falls church, committing myself to no 
course in the future save following Divine Light, and 
requesting, if any official recognition were to be sent 
me, that it be worded like any other license to preach 
after Baptist church usage. 

Immediately the dear pastor sent me what I have 
carried in my trunk ever since — a regular license to 
preach, written like other licentiates' licenses, in three 
or four lines; signed by Pastor Evans and the church 
clerk for very many years, Jarvis B. Bardwell, a name 
well known in Franklin County, and esteemed in wide 
business circles, who died aged 101 a few short years 
since. 

This license was endorsed and re-signed by the 
Oak Park, Chicago, Baptist church, to which body I 

206 



LICENSED TO PREACH 

took my church letter later, to be welcomed by Pastor 
Van Doren with the courtesy and brotherly sympathy 
he has shown me since that day. 

Do not think I undervalued the thought or pur- 
pose or kindness of the church in recognizing me as 
used of God. Far from it! I highly value to this day 
such recognition, especially coming from the church of 
my parents, my own chosen church home. But I desired 
just that simple recognition, and could in receiving it, 
bind myself to no other's views or possible construc- 
tions of Holy Writ, and to no restrictions as to possi- 
ble future spheres of service for me. 

About this time a series of articles signed "Ulfilas" 
appeared in the Boston Watchman calling attention 
to the error of some Vermont churches in allowing "a 
woman, and young at that," to occupy the place of 
public ministry; Greek and Hebrew were largely quot- 
ed and severe rebukes administered to me and those 
who employed me. 

One day I received a note of sympathy from Lucy 
Rider, — later Lucy Rider Meyer, then in the beginning 
of her w 7 ork as hymn writer, lecturer on primary teach- 
ing, etc. Miss Rider, from her old home, Weybridge, 
Vermont, wrote me, "I think Ulfilas proceeds on a 
false basis in regard to the interpretation of the word 
prophesy, and that the value of the whole article which 
I have read this morning in a recent Watchman is vi- 
tiated thereby. I should like to hold those who ad- 
here so closely to the letter of the passages about "Wo- 
man's Silence in the Churches/ 7 to the letter in other 
passages about the "wearing of gold and pearls and 
costly array/' and "the plaiting of the hair." But 

207 



A PILGRIM MAID 

pardon me; I did not intend to reply to the article 
of Ulfilas, but merely to assure you of my sympathy. — 
The work is very great, the harvest truly is ready. Do 
not be afraid to work right on wherever and however 
the Lord directs you. That guidance will never con- 
flict with the spirit of the Word. Your fellow-worker 
in Christ Jesus, Lucy J. Rider. " 

One day I learned that "Ulfilas" was the very 
scholarly and elderly Dr. T. H. Archibald who had 
said to a friend of mine that he "wished Miss Towns- 
ley had never set foot in the state of Vermont." He 
perhaps had read some newspaper item like this taken 
from the paper of a village I was leaving: 

"Miss Townsley will close her labors in this place 
Thursday evening. The public interest in the preach- 
ing of this wonderful woman has been constantly in- 
creased. Criticism has been well nigh disarmed, and 
the large house is literally packed every evening with 
most attentive hearers. A deep religious spirit per- 
vades her discourses, and scores every night go to the 
inquiry room to learn of the Savior." 

At all events his people pressed him so that Dr. 
Archibald wrote me a very courteous and urgent let- 
ter begging me to come to his aid in meetings at Fac- 
tory Point, which I did after three months previous 
engagements were fulfilled. Well do I recall the Pas- 
tar's sobs and the way he fell prone upon the com- 
munion table, one after noon, when I spoke on prayer, 
and the duty and privilege of praying for one's minis- 
ter, and the sin of neglecting such prayer. 

Some time after we left his field (no one was ever 
more kind in manner and word than he!) I had my at- 

208 



LICENSED TO PREACH 

tention called to an article in the Watchman, asking 
permission to retract the articles signed "Ulfiiag/ 4 
stating that the author had invited to his own church 
the lady referred to, and was now sure his interpreta- 
tion or translation, or spiritual insight, had been at 
fault, concerning certain scriptures he had quoted; and 
recommended "the sister to any and all churches who 
could secure her/- His humble, childlike spirit while 
I was associated with him left a helpful influence on 
my life. 

A later date found me at work with my valuable 
assistant with the FreeWill Baptist Church of Marion 
Ohio, a flourshing body, under care of Rev. James W. 
Parsons, one of the best of men, of sound judgement, 
winsome, kindliness and devotion to his Lord. Two 
weeks we toiled with sixteen seekers, but not the 
breaking down hoped for, on the part of the church. 
In the thick of the strife I became suddenly ill with 
malaria, from drinking a glass of impure water at the 
church. One Saturday I was very sick, but on Sabbath 
eve, was helped to preach on sin. God was present in 
his spirit. I preached earnestly and plainly first of all 
to myself, for I keenly felt I had let sin have too easy 
a victory over me. 

Finally the Marion people seemed moved and the 
church revived, and opposition from other bodies of 
christians ceased. Good news followed us from there 
as we toiled on in other fields. One Marion incident 
among many I will note: 

I had tried so hard to lead a girl of about four- 
teen to Christ seemingly in vain. The very last eve, 
she was waiting near the door so pitifully, and again 

209 



A PILGRIM MAID 

told me she had "no light and you are going away." 
I was so tired and anxious to get out of the church, 
but could I leave that poor child unsaved? Thirteen 
years afterward she told me how perplexed I seemed 
and almost in despair, and that I said, "I can't tell 
you any more truth or explain the way any farther. 
Step into this pew and we will try to pray for you a- 
gain." Then, she said, "You fell on your knees, put 
your arms around me, and prayed. As you gave me 
your final good night, light broke in upon my soul. 
From that hour I've never doubted that I belonged to 
Christ and He to me!" 

It was well worth the few minutes' additional 
labor that evening! "After many days" so many 
things have brought me comfort! 

Pastor Parsons said the last week of the six, 
"You have been a marvel to me of patient cheerfulness, 
and while under a great strain, you have been really 
happy." 

Before we left he called his deacons together in 
the parsonage with us two helpers, saying he needed 
something we had, and he had not. He "must have it, 
for the honor of God's Truth and the success of the 
work, in his future." I tried to explain the need and 
the blessedness of the holy spirit empowering for ser- 
vices. A wonderful prayer-meeting followed and Mr. 
Parsons gave himself away to God anew, in touching 
words of self-surrender and acceptance of the Holy 
Ghost, proffered to them that believe. (John 7: 37-9) 

After years passed, he wrote me, "The River of 
Life has not failed. Since that little meeting in the 
Marion parsonage I have never preached without re- 

210 



LICENSED TO PREACH 

suits, never labored without manifest or fully assured 
reward." 

"He we a great man" said a mutual friend one 
day, " great of soul, and has ever proven a man of 
power and remarkable usefulness." Our next field 
was in Shaftsbury, Vermont, a long and expensive trip, 
but the only door God opened. The Estey Organ 
Company named us to the pastorless church, whose 
candlestick was apparently about to be moved out of 
its place. Even after we arrived and were settled in 
the hospitably gracious home of the Bottome family, 
on those lovely hills, it was very far from being settled 
that we were to stay. But we had a family prayer 
meeting over it and I sent a boy on a horse with print- 
ed circulars of invitation to every house for three miles 
in every direction, announcing Sabbath services, and 
we began. The papers named the work as a very 
astonishing one. Indifference, shiftlessness and finan- 
cial closeness, to put it mildly, had about caused the 
ruin of the church. 

Among the results of our labors, were, first, the 
conversion of a large number, among them a very en- 
ergetic force of young men and women, some of whom 
have since heartily greeted me in Church work in Lin- 
coln, Nebraska. Second, the calling of A. T. Chandler 
of Northern Vermont as pastor, who came and baptis- 
ed a large number into the church and led them on in 
service. Third, the permeating of a wide field with 
the saving truth of the gospel. 

One of our dearest Elims with palm trees and 
wells of water was the home of Mrs. Jonas Gibson, at 
Poultney, Vermont, where we now hastened for a few 

211 



A PILGRIM MAID 

days of delightful and needed rest. 

Then to West Rupert, where a dying church was 
revived and it numbers trebeled. 



212 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 
All Things to All Men 

"Not for the gain of the gold, 

Or the getting, the hoarding, the having ; 

But for the joy of the deed, but for the duty to do. 

Go with the spiritual life, the higher volition and action ; 
With the great girdle of God, go and encompass the earth ! ' ' 

It was not all smooth sailing during these early 
years. One field shall be nameless, where the pastor 
had a faithless church, who forbade the use of the au- 
ditorium (the leading(?) woman of the church had 
started the opposition) lest "the carpet should be 
soiled." So meetings were announced in a dingy 
basement. Advertising a lack of faith and small ideas 
of God's power and love will not draw outsiders into 
the house of the Lord, much less into his service. 
"One man rule" is a bad thing in a Baptist church, 
but "one woman rule" is worse! 

In this trying field pastors from neighboring towns 
came in to help and to be helped. Difficulties melted 
away, somewhat. I demanded quietly, the pastor 
agreeing, the use of the main audience room; our con- 
gregations increased, interest deepened and we know 
some good was wrought. 

I went to State Prison for the first time at Wind- 
sor, Vermont. I insisted upon being locked in the soli- 

213 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tary cell for a time with its narrow limits, its ball and 
chain, its absolute lack of a ray of light, and my com- 
panions left me there at my urgent request "for ten 
minutes." When they opened the door I supposed 
they had been gone twenty minutes at least. But the 
Warden assured me I had been searching for "an illus- 
tration on the blackness of darkness forever" — just 
three minutesl 

It was in the winter of one year in the 70's that 
we went to the aid of the Baptist church in Shushan, 
New York, whose pastor, having passed on, I may 
now name as one who had written far and near to 
learn whether the preacher-woman stood on her head, 
or feet, wore skirts or trousers, was orthodox or a 
heretic. With fear and trembling he called us, but 
seemed to give me his confidence on my first Sabbath 
in his pulpit, when after the opening exercises, he 
whispered, "Now you go ahead!" 

He removed his trembling form to the back seat, 
"to see how I impressed the people." I uttered my 
beginning in the words of my text, Esther 3:15. "The 
city Shushan was perplexed." A smile flitted over 
the aged pastor's face, as he settled calmly down to 
watch the sermon's effect on this modern Shushan. 
At noon he grasped my hand, saying, "You may do 
anything you please here." 

But how he did try us! Standing before his peo- 
ple, stiff and erect as a darning needle stuck in a board, 
he would point his long, bony finger toward a youth, 
and cry, "Young man, do you know that the foul 
worm of corruption will soon revel in your brown hair?" 
Or, "Young maiden, you may sleep in the moldering 

214 



ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN 

tomb, your hair caressing the crawling worm, ere a 
year passes. " 

How we pleaded in vain with him not to drive 
the young people away! How we prayed earnestly in 
the closet before every service for the Spirit's guiding, 
till the Sunday School superintendent and others con- 
fessed their previous indifference and coldness, with 
heart touching words of prayer! 

The dear old church was greatly revived, and one 
hundred and twenty-five professed conversion to Christ 
in that community. 

Then to Middletown Springs, at the united call of 
three earnest, godly pastors, W. L. Palmer, Baptist, 
D. Rose, Methodist, O. Myrick, Congregational. 

What Christians, unitedly intent on the saving of 
the lost and the upbuilding of the churches they repre- 
sent, can accomplish! Such confessions of sin! Such 
putting down of old neighborhood feuds! Such con- 
versions! My record books, with the testimonies of 
the pastors and many people, it almost makes me 
blind with tears to read! 

The religious press stated that there was not a 
family in a radius of ten miles from the center of the 
village without at least one convert. Then to Poult- 
ney and the dear Gibson home. 

The Poultney church was somewhat divided and 
a trifle quarrelsome, and needing the holy spirit's 
teaching. Unbelief in the hearts of the people was 
apparent. Rev. J. A. Pierce, then doing zealous and 
efficient service, as ever since, till so very recently, re- 
ceived after a long and thorny journey into the many 
mansions in the city of sure awards and righteous 

215 



A PILGRIM MAID 

judgments, could hardly think the spacious building 
would require the bringing in of the extra chairs we 
asked for, as "The people here do not go to church.'! 
The first evening he was obliged to sit upon the floor 
of the platform, for every place for an extra chair was 
occupied. His own tender, contrite spirit and faithful, 
fervent leadership, were mighty factors in the accom- 
plishment of the ends so carefully sought. Many tiny 
groups gathered in corners and in different pews at 
the close of the afternoon Bible lessons, and confessed 
"their faults one to another and prayed one for an- 
other/' The last two choir members becoming Chris- 
tians, whole Sunday School classes and several families, 
I especially recall, after the lapse of many years, as 
among those converted. 

During this winter my dear brother was in Boston 
in the eastern office of our uncle, Mr. Davis. Frank 
was very much worse physically, and his recovery now 
was considered very doubtful. He wanted — needed 
me. So I hurried to Boston where I found him weak 
and in partial convalescence from a painful sick- 
ness confining him to his bed. He talked very 
freely with me, and I could see that his utter helpless- 
ness, and need had brought him to yield himself more 
fully to God to be led and moulded as He should 
choose. 

Our two days visit was all too short, and with 
more heartache than before I resumed work going to 
North Bennington, where the wife of the pastor who 
entertained us wept all night because Miss Townsley 
would not promise to keep her wide traveling hat on 
in preaching, which wide, flapping, felt hat, with its 

216 



ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN 

one heavy plume would draw attention to itself, rather 
than to the subject of its owner's preaching; but the 
people were not offended that I did as usual, but melt- 
ed to tears as The Holy Spirit convinced them of 
what a true revival implies. 

The pastors were somewhat quarrelsome A Tem- 
perance Club in town was running a parlor with cards 
and billiards its main attractions, and yet wishing to 
be counted as aiding(?) in the work; one pastor wished 
1 would imitate Moody more, another that I would 
follow Knapp more closely; one that I should not sing 
any solos except classic (did he mean operatic?) music. 
Some suggested that I hold the after meeting in one 
fashion and some another, and one advised that we 
have "talks by the ministers" after each sermon, and 
all considered, it was as hard a field as I had known. 

To end with, one pastor on my last evening there, 
rose and began to raise our financial compensation by 
bidding off our services, auction style, and calling for 
so-much-a-head bids. I stood it three minutes, then 
sprang up and stopped the attempted iniquitious sale 
of hearts and brain-work, of soul agony, and prayer, 
and said our usual method of compensation had been 
agreed upon before we came and must be adopted, 
even though late, or we would go thence unpaid! We 
did not — quite. 

Off then, gladly we hastened to our Fair Ha- 
ven resting place at Deacon Smith's. Some people 
know how to rest you. They value you for yourself. 
Others for what you can do for them, and are espec- 
ially given to lionizing you, if you are prominent — 
hoping to add to their own social standing or increase 

217 



A PILGRIM MAID 

their popularity. The Smith home was restful. 

The winter of 1877-8 we accepted a call to Cape 
Cod and labored at Sandwich with three churchs, 
greatly helped by the Friends' Society, the Friends 
being quite numerous in that vicinity. 

The Methodist pastor was inclined to be very 
critical in his manner, but I owe him for a favor in 
that line. He asked me for the privilege of a person- 
al criticism once, and said he wished I "would not use 
sarcasm" in speaking. I knew I often was a little sar- 
castic, and sometimes it had produced desired effects. 
I told him as much, but also that I could not promise 
to eliminate this entirely, and must think about it. I 
did think, and prayed over it, and for the first time 
realized it was a growing tendency, and since then 
have used sarcasm very rarely. 

After we left the Cape an aged man over eighty 
years old became happily converted. The cold apathy 
seemed lifted up; the people dropped many dead forms 
and seemed to receive somewhat of spiritual life and 
power; letters followed us ? full of great joy and a spir- 
it of consecration, and words like these, "My new feel- 
ing may leave me, but Christ never will!" "I do not 
say I have gotten the Lord, but the Lord is holding 
me" 

Somewhere about this time, let me say, I have 
ever felt that a certain move was a mistake. For a 
reason I cannot here publicly state, I was led to turn 
from adjacent fields and accept a call to a distant one 
at much expense, and where I was nearly an entire 
stranger. 

Did I pray over this matter? Yes, as some pas- 
218 



ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN 

tors pray who write a sermon out and then cry, "Lord, 
I've chosen text and sermon; now bless my work." 

I prayed, but not in the real self -surrendering 
spirit which is the first essential of all true prayer. I 
had never before accepted a call to any field without 
a sense of the "Thus saith the Lord." This time I 
followed a mixed motive in accepting a call to a Mich- 
igan city to aid the Congregational Church whose pas- 
tor deceived me as to "the Church warranting" his 
writing me, and all the plans he had professedly made. 
Later, I read him his own letters from my letter-books, 
and he was obliged to confess his deceptive course. 
His own deacons did not know why we came to them. 
At the close of nine days he had so hampered me, com- 
plaining of my manner of preaching, that I begged 
him to tell me his cause of offense. He said I preach- 
ed too much about the cross and the atoning blood of 
Christ. It was "contrary to the belief of part of the 
church who were Unitarian in their sentiments." We 
agreed that I should preach one more evening, on con- 
dition I might honorably leave the field the next day. 
He was relieved. I certainly was! I had no fields near 
by open to me, and unable then to go back East. 
This man, shortly after, became pastor of a Unitarian 
church, as two of his predecessors had been before 
him. A number of his church people felt as I did, 
and regretted our going. 

Fortunately, Miss Buck was called home from 
Adrain just then, and I hurried to the Norton farm, 
Howell, Michigan, once again, for rest and prayer. 
Thence I was called to an Ohio town, where I found 
the Baptist Pastor required three days of the precious 

219 



A PILGRIM MAID 

time to overcome his opposition to evangelists, parti- 
cularly a young woman worker; and the Congregation- 
al Pastor, so sure that people were all right anyway, 
converted or unconverted, and trying to win men to 
God by telling them so. 

He was so full of praise for me, publicly express- 
ed, even to flattery, that I had to give one afternoon 
Bible Reading on "The Oil of Love," distinguishing it 
from the soap grease of flattery. I saw men, women 
and children converted. But felt the lack in leaders 
of sound judgement, and intense love, a willingness to 
let God work through any means he might choose, 
though one of the pastors had a real sense of the sin- 
fulness of sin. This, however, without love for sinners, 
is of little worth in a worker. 

My summers for ten years at May wood were sup- 
posed to be seasons of rest. I've learned better now, 
but during the summers referred to, I preached at 
May wood often, during the six weeks absence of the 
Union Church Pastor, other Sabbaths at Oak Park, 
Wheaton, River Forest and Chicago, gave addresses 
at Willard Hall, addressed Sunday School Conventions 
and Temperance Leagues and Mission Circles, wrote 
Tracts and solos for my own use, led cottage meetings 
and spent much time in study. 

In 1877 I was often the guest W. E. Blackstone 
and wife, meeting Major Cole's family at the former's 
Oak Park home, where we all studied and prayed to- 
gether, comparing notes and gathering from each oth- 
er valuable suggestions. Then followed another busy 
winter with Miss Buck in the East. 



220 



CHAPTER XXIX. 
Lonely Hours 

"Sowing the seed with an aching heart, 
Sowing the seed while the tear drops start ; 
Sowing the seed mid rebuke and blame, 
Sowing the seed in the Master's name. 

O sure will the harvest be ! 
O sure will the harvest be ! • ' 

After I had been preaching about four years I re- 
ceived a call from the deacons of the Shelburne Falls, 
Massachusetts, church, asking that while they were still 
undecided as to a pastor, Mr. Evans having removed, I 
should come and supply the Baptist pulpit four or five 
Sabbaths, and then, if it seemed best, spend three 
weeks in revival meetings. I found the church very 
badly rent, two factions striving over recent candi- 
dates, one faction opposing my coming, with a few very 
earnest souls on the other side. Strong Miss Buck 
went with me, to my comfort and counseling. 

I supplied five Sabbaths, held two daily meetings 
for four weeks, and am sure some good was accom- 
plished and a few choice souls really saved. 

Communion with my former friend, Flora Lamson, 
was very precious, and all the more so because God had 
helped me wait patiently for her helpful God-speed. 
While at Shelburne Falls I found time to review Hop- 

221 



A PILGRIM MAID 

kins' Evidences, read Shed on Original Sin, the best 
volume of the sort I had seen, John whom Jesus Loved, 
and several of Phillips Brooks' sermons,— all with profit. 
I would give all those full days of toil for one sheaf 
garnered — the conversion of H — M — , the daughter of 
one of mother's old time friends. Then we went to 
West Fairlee, Vermont, for the Methodist Church, 
whose pastor took us evenings, for part of our stay, to 
labor in the Ely-Goddard Copper Mines, the third 
largest in the United States. 

One thousand people lived there, and General 
Thomas of the United States Army had a home near; 
we found some work to do, and several most interest- 
ing cases were among the saved. 

Then in early June we went back to May wood, 
hastened thither, instead of to friends waiting for us 
in Jersey City, by a strange presentiment that we 
were needed at home. With tickets bought and bag- 
gage checked to New York we felt the imperative call 
to Maywood so surley that we exchanged our tickets 
and rechecked our baggage and came to our place of 
summer sojourn. 

All seemed as usual and we wondered why we had 
received such an inward summons. But a shadow black 
indeed fell over our Maywood home nine days after 
our return, in the very sudden death of Mrs. Buck, 
leaving Millie motherless and heavily burdened for the 
next twenty years, and depriving me of her assistance, 
and of the long valued mother's tender expression of 
affectionate interest. 

I started east in the late fall, alone, leaving my 
smitten friend with a pale, set face caring for the 

222 



LONELY HOURS 

stricken home faithfully. I had spent the summer as 
busily as previously narrated, many cares added to the 
recent bereavement of my friend, yet finding in the 
fellowship and christian sympathy of William H. Sharp 
and wife, workers together with other active christians, 
much to inspire me to better doing and holier living. 
Their home became my refuge some time after, and 
has been such till the present date, friend Sharp, lov- 
ed, as few men I have known was called higher in 1886 
leaving Maywood still hungry for his smile and cheer- 
ing aid, on the street, in the house of prayer and the 
homes of want. It was hard to be alone in the fields 
trying as one I now must refer to. 

At Pittsford, Vermont, I was entertained by two 
people whose insane relative had been brought home 
from the state asylum and placed in a room barred with 
iron bars fastened by secure locks, and though he was 
"harmless" he was not quiet. My room was next to 
his, separated from it by a heavy door with iron bolts, 
I was not afraid, for he simply could not get out. But 
I had hardly dropped to sleep my first night under 
that roof when he began pounding on the wall at the 
head of my bed. My host and hostess were at a dance 
till the "wee small hours" so I heard no voices as I 
did afterwards bidding the poor fellow (in vain) to "be 
quiet." Then he began to whistle, then to shout, then 
to laugh, then to sing, each of these accomplishments 
being rendered in maniac style. Not an hour of sleep 
for me. I pulled through the next day, and a similar 
sleepless experience the following night. How long 
the church expected me to work without sleep I do 
not yet know. The second or third night I was taken 

223 



A PILGRIM MAID 

with a severe attack of winter cholera. I sent for a 
doctor at 7 A. M., but the party sent waited till nine 
because he "would be going that way then." Dr. 
Flanders was extremely kind and skillful. But he 
said I was in a dangerous state and needed special 
care, so I sent at once for my dear Sophia Smith, of my 
Fair Haven home, who came immediately to my aid, 
spent a night caring for me and bundled me up at the 
doctor's suggestion and bore me to her mother and the 
New England home, which I have often longed for 
since. 

The young pastor of the church was quite unwill- 
ing to release me, asking "What on earth am I going to 
do?" He said the insane man meant no harm and 
would not hurt me. I assured him I was "not a mite 
afraid of the lunatic but must have some sleep!" 

Who now comes to my aid? Who, but my dear 
sister, Sophia Smith, who nurses me through a night 
of mental distress, wraps me for a sleigh ride to the 
station, and takes me to my home at Mother Smith's 
in Fair Haven once more — The "Inasmuch as ye have 
done it unto one of the least of these" is surely for 
that household, as well as for the Allen family in that 
same well remembered village of Vermont. 



224 



CHAPTER XXX. 
Not Alone Any More 

"No, never alone — 
No, never alone, 
He promised never to leave me, 
Never to leave me alone ! ' ' 

How utterly unwise and detrimental to the good 
of the work are the entertainment plans of many 
churches and some Women's Christain Temperance 
Unions! I lay idle nearly a month, quite sick three 
weeks, and on my recovery did not return to Pittsford. 
The doctor charged me only half rates — another mer- 
cy to count. O, the tender care of that dear home 
that month! Yonder I shall thank mother Smith a- 
gain! 

I report the meetings at Orwell by quoting Pastor 
Severances account in a paper, after he wrote me of 
of receiving a large number of church additions. 

"Miss F. E. Townsley, the evangelist, concluded 
a two weeks' series of meetings in Orwell on Sabbath 
evening, the 22nd inst , No person probably ever came 
into the town who w T on the hearts of the people more 
entirely than has Miss Townsley. Her preaching was 
clear and pungent, and carried conviction of intellect 
as well as of heart. The doctrines of the Bible were 
enforced with directness and power, and yet they were 
presented in such form that the masses took them in 

225 



A PILGRIM MAID 

without mistrusting they were feasting on the strong- 
est kind of doctrinal preaching. Miss Townsley is gift- 
ed with good sense and tact, and above all thoroughly 
consecrated to her Lord and His work; is admirably 
fitted for the calling she fulfils. The church and peo- 
ple greatly appreciate her labors here, and her name 
and her work will long be remembered. She made 
many warm, personal friends, whose prayers and bene- 
dictions will continue to follow her." 

At Orwell I met the afflicted Mrs. Cofren, in whose 
sick room I learned valuable lessons and whose per- 
mission was given me to write of her in my booklet, 
" Canst thou sing in the storm?" which has been scat- 
tered by the National Women's Christain Temperance 
Union, by their flower mission department in thousands 
of sick rooms and many incurable's homes. 

Mid winter finds me in Ludlow, Vermont, seat of 
Black River Academy, where is an important Baptist 
church. I quote from my journal: "I am not alone, 
for I had once heard Sarah J. Holloway pray, and felt 
led to ask her to accompany me — She is the sister of 
Mrs. W. H. Sharp of Maywood, a member of the Or- 
thodox Friends' meeting, which in Chicago stands 
for much that is clean and prayerful and soul-seeking; 
and they kindly gave her their blessing in word and 
written endorsement, and winsome, tenderhearted, 
prayerful Miss Holloway is now my companion. At 
Ludlow many requests for prayers are heard, but 
there seems something ever in the way. So I asked 
God and the church what it is that hinders His honor 
and the answers to prayer and ties down the faithful 
pastor, J. A. Johnston. 

226 



NOT ALONE ANY MORE 

We learn it is a church quarrel, and brother must 
be reconciled to brother, and the church must melt. 
So one Sabbath noon before I can preach again, there 
is called a church meeting, and all but four promise to 
greet kindly a brother Martin, who with good judge- 
ment and earnest words is sharing in the work faith- 
fully, though some time ago dismissed from the church. 
And so, very soon he is re-instated in the fellowship 
of the church, and now the cloud shows signs of break- 
ing, and the students begin to pray and seek the Sav- 
ior's blessing of eternal life. Miss Holloway's personal 
work is reverent and sincere. The organist, a young 
man of influence, is among the seekers. The restored 
brother is helping us right along. 

I received a call from the State branch of the 
Association opposed to secret societies, to confer with 
their officers as to work under their auspices, but 
though in sympathy with their reform, I must decline. 
"This one thing I do!" 

A table full of young students at Deacon Petti - 
grew's, where we board, is one by one brought 
to Christ. This has been our special prayer. A 
strong-willed choir member surrenders to Christ. Pro- 
fessors of religion come to talk with us at the appoint- 
ed hours concerning their needs, and "how T to become 
real Christians." Tearless, firm, but surrendered, the 
choir member is now a witness for the Savior. 

Such a lack of love was apparent here, such hard- 
ness toward the "woman who was a sinner," — and also 
such men as have been profligate has made the work 
hard. But the "ten righteous in the city" are by 
prayer and devotion saving many. 

227 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Such a load as one day bore me down, drove me 
into the retreat of prayer in an unusual degree of con- 
trition and purpose, That afternoon the pastor rose 
before I could speak and confessed his own lack of 
spontaneity, and appealed to the people to speak out 
their souls' desires. The Bible reading on "A broken, 
contrite heart, " was easily given, after that. At the 
pastor's request, after the church meeting above re- 
ferred to, every man and woman in the house except 
four gave brother Martin the hand of Christian for- 
giveness and fellowship. Those four "fear the brother 
has not been deep enough in the dust of contrition" 
for his confessed hard language of years ago, and four 
can block the wheels very positively in such an hour 
as this. 

My load is lifted. In answer to special prayer I've 
had a long talk with three influential people, to the 
helping of the work. 

My own personal needs are many, my heart is full 
of cares concerning my brother, and the financial ne- 
cessities that press upon me. How few who attend 
revival services realize that an Evangelist is a human 
being often with unutterable griefs and requirements 
of which the people dream not. 

I wrote my leaflet "What shall I do with my new 
Bible?" for new converts, and some others, not so 
"new." 

Closing at Ludlow, we went to our mother Smith, 
who received my new helper as hospitably as she once 
did myself and my former assistant. To this day Miss 
Holloway seldom names our true rest-givers of Fair 
Haven without tears. 

228 



NOT ALONE ANY MORE 

Good news follows us from pastor and converts, 
of Ludlow, especially as to the new work of the young- 
people and their new encouragements from those pre- 
viously so indifferent to their needs. Spent rest days 
praying for light as to my future. 

In Fair Haven, Rev. Mr. Lowell, the Methodist 
pastor, called to invite me to preach every evening for 
a week for his church. 

We made a long stay at Fair Haven, resting, with 
occasional preaching services here and there where ask- 
ed, but a call then came to me to supply the vacant 
Baptist pulpit of Wheaton, Illinois, for a year, which 
meant I must rest thoroughly first, in justice to that 
people and myself. 

First, Miss Holloway and I visited the Clifton 
Springs, New York Sanitarium, where Dr. and Mrs. 
Thayer, from May wood were located. There we met 
a number of missionaries from China and India. I 
spoke to a large chapel full of people on "Abiding in 
Christ," and ministered i^ito many soul patients. We 
enjoyed the social and spiritual uplift and hurried on 
to May wood, I to prepare for my new field. It seem- 
ed to some of my friends that I needed the change of 
work and so I was helped to decide affirmatively. 

Was it the right course? In my christian life us- 
ually I have thought it wise after praying in oneness 
with the Divine Will, to take the first answer vouch- 
safed. I did in this instance. My health was giving 
way, under the strain of soul and body, and my friends 
urged a different sort of work for me, for a year at 
least. 



229 



CHAPTER XXXI. 
Not So Crazy, After All 

"Seven wise men of Gotham 
Went to sea in a bowl. 
If the bowl had been stronger 
My tale would be longer." 

Before I go West again I must leave on record 
two stories concerning my Vermont experiences. One 
is that of 

A Lunatic Singer. 

Once again I see it all — the crowds, the lights of 
the village church, the white face of the pastor on the 
platform, as finding my way to his side I heard him 
whisper, "What can we do? See that man standing 
here at one side getting ready to address the people. 
He is crazy as a loon. Had a head wound in the Civ- 
il war; breaks out every few years some wild way for 
a few days. This time it's the meetings. Thinks he's 
called to lead the singing tonight. I'm afraid he'll up- 
set everything, and oh, it's too bad just when things 
looked so favorable." 

"Never mind," I whispered, and stepping forward 
spoke a few moments about the hymn we were to sing, 
and touched the organist by my side, telling her to 
begin with no prelude, only the keynote. Then if ever 
I sang and led the congregation it was that hour. But 

230 



NOT SO CRAZY AFTER ALL 

1 kept my eye on that poor, crazed man who at once 
stepped off the platform and sat flat down on the floor, 
facing the people and muttering as the song poured 
from astonished scores before us, "I'm set apart to 
lead this music, and I'm humble, so humble I can sit 
here on the floor — anywhere." 

While they sang I leaned over him and said in a 
low voice, " Good-evening, brother. Glad you're to 
be my right hand helper. But I believe you'd better 
stand up here by me. It will relieve me in leading 
these songs." 

"No, no! I'm too humble. What ails these peo- 
ple is pride. I want to teach 'em a lesson." 

"Sing on then," I said, and while renewing my 
singing I prayed most fervently I might win in this 
battle, and get the poor man out of the house, home 
to his anxious wife, and so be able to preach unhinder- 
ed in the very interesting stage of the revival services 
we had then reached. 

Just here an usher handed me a note from the 
man's wife saying he often in such spells would be very 
wild for a day or two, but if we could get him to the 
doorway, two strong men with cords stood there ready 
to quietly bind and carry him home. I wrote back, 
"Let the men stand not far from the back seat, and 
I'll help get him into their reach and there shall not 
be the least disturbance." 

At the close of the second hymn, I said, "Friends, 
before we sing the next hymn I want to call attention 
to the genuine humility of this brother. He will sit 
on the floor even, to prove his humility. He hates 
pride! He loathes self-laudation!" 

231 



A PILGRIM MAID 

"That's it!" he said, audibly, "and I'm glad there's 
one true prophet in Israel that can discern the spirits." 

"Now brother," I interrupted, "we have seen 
your humbleness of spirit. But I want you to help 
me for our Lord's sake tonight. And first of all please 
come here and assist a tried servant of the Master to 
lead this next hymn." 

Meanwhile, I had motioned to the people from 
behind the lowly stationed lunatic to leave him with 
me and not be worried. But if ever a woman prayed 
to the divine Man of Galilee it was I, then and there. 
The man jumped to his feet and shouted, "I'll do any- 
thing for you. I believe in you and your work. What 
do you want? Say the word!" Looking straight in 
to his eyes, for he was wilder now, I said very positively 
and distinctly, "You will stand right here by my side 
and not move a foot from me, only keep singing with 
me. When I stop singing you stop. Friends, you 
will sing four verses." 

How they sang! At the end of two verses, as the 
congregation kept on under the leadership, now, of a 
good, regularly-appointed chorus leader who was fre- 
quently late (why will responsible leaders in anything 
be proverbially fifteen minutes behind hand, especially 
when crazy people are to be managed?) I turned to 
my demented assistant, and looking again straight in 
his eyes said, "Stop singing, and give me your advise." 

"Why of course," he tragically whispered. "I'm 
here to help you in anyway. Proud to be consulted 
by such a woman as you!" 

"Well" I said, "sit down here on the pulpit sofa." 
He obeyed, and I took him by the hand, but, mind 

232 



NOT SO CRAZY, AFTER ALL 

you, I kept my eyes on his face as I said, "I want a 
reliable, wide-awake man in this house tonight." 

"That's me," he whispered, frantically. 

"I want you" I said, "to go with me down the 
aisle as my own appointed helper and sit in a seat I'll 
select and watch the effect of my sermon tonight on 
my hearers. But you must not speak or stir about. 
If you will sit thus quietly through a short sermon, all 
will be well. But my Lord must be honored by a rev- 
erent, quiet solemnity this evening, and He told me 
to tell you that if you were not perfectly quiet in help- 
ing me tonight, I need not be responsible for what 
would occur." 

Uttering these last words very forcefully, I saw 
him weaken, quake and yield to the mastery of a will 
set for the defence of the gospel and the worship of 
God's house. "I'll help you any way, any seat, any 
time," he stammered, and I led him down the aisle to 
a place two seats from the door. Speaking to the two 
who were occupying these seats, I said, "Brethren, 
vacate, please. I need this man's help in a way he 
and I understand, and he must occupy this seat." 

They left the pew, looking as if they feared I too, 
had gone mad. My charge sat down and said, I'll 
keep still and watch the audience from behind while 
you preach. I'll take notes of their behavior, you see, 
and we two will run this meeting our own way!" 

I slipped to the door, stationed the men with 
cords where they could see the poor fellow, and said, 
"When he gets wild, I'll start a hymn and as we all 
rise, you two deftly lift him right out doors, and we 
will go on calmly with the service." 

233 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I had preached about twelve minutes during which 
time my man listened, and with an all important air 
scrutinized the people around him, conspicuously tak- 
ing notes apparently of their attitude and demeanor, 
when suddenly he began to groan and exclaim. In- 
stantly I said, "In view of the thought we have just 
discussed, let us all rise at once and sing, "Revive us 
again. " "We had not finished two lines before the 
waiting men at the door had slipped quietly up be- 
hind our crazy friend, and holding his arms close to 
his sides, carried him out before he could even get a 
breath to protest. Four-fifths of the congregation did 
not know he had left the room. He was kept in con- 
finement two weeks, and recovered, as often before, 
the right use of his mental faculties. 

There are very many crazy ones who ought to be 
got out of the house of worship, or recovered of their 
maladies. There is the maiden who wants to run 
things in a social line; the woman who won't serve un- 
less she can be president of the Aid Society; the singer 
who insists on selecting all the singers or she "will 
leave the choir"; the minister who forgets he is not, 
ex-officio, conscience for every other member; the big 
man who assumes to be conscience for the minister 
(there's a large number of these) ; the Sunday School 
superintendent who allows no temperance lesson, but 
runs wild on the "optional" every quarter; the En- 
deavor or leader who thinks the object of Christian 
Endeavor or Baptist Young People's Union or Epworth 
League is to "amuse the young people." Oh, there 
are so many demented or monomaniacs! Where are 
the men with the stout bands — two are enough — 

234 



NOT SO CRAZY, AFTER ALL 

Wisdom and Devotion? 

The other story is about 

Old Tight. 

Poor old man! Even now I see him rising for 
prayers — that evening in the long ago when I had 
preached to the unsaved, knowing nothing of him, nor 
that it was his first evening at our services. 

Tall, bloated, wiiite-haired, and eighty-two, he 
shook like an aspen leaf as he clung to the pew before 
him, while a pastor near me groaned, "0 God/' and 
people buried their faces in their hands and whispered : 
"It's Old Tight." 

Yes, that was his only name in the village where 
he had lived a genuine sot for fifty years, fiddling for 
low dances and given over to drunkenness and de- 
struction by all but his aged wife. 

Could he be helped? Pastors trembled and wept 
as he passed into the inquiry room the evening re- 
ferred to, and his aged wife clung to his arm, for once 
without a rebuff. He told me he longed "to die 
clean ;" that he knew appetite was his master, and he 
had been steeped in liquor for half a century. He 
seemed to sink down on the promises of Christ, and 
feeling his utter helplessness, gave up all to simply let 
Christ and his people do what they would with him. 
And therein lay his only hope. 

The struggle? There was none. Drunk most of 
the time for years, an inveterate user of tobacco, with 
no holy habits of thought or action, Old Tight seemed 
to present a challenge to the gospel of deliverance de- 
cidedly severe. 

His friends, not his carousing cronies (they fled 
235 



A PILGRIM MAID 

in dismay), fell down before God and pleaded, "Thou 
hast said!" 

The next morning after a strangely quiet night, 
Old Tight told his wife that he wanted she should 
hide his tobacco box and pipe. She did so. He 
walked the floor; he trembled worse than ever; he 
prayed and wrung his hands and cried, "Let me die 
clean, God, for Jesus' sake!" 

Too old to toil he would have had a monotonous 
life had not Christians divided the time and left him 
but a little while alone each day. His wife suggested 
that he play his fiddle and try some hymns on it. He 
tried but once, saying, "Mary, it's a part of the old life 
in sin. It makes me desperately discouraged to see it. 
Besides, I can't use it for Jesus when I have used it 
for the devil so many, many years. Put it in the gar- 
ret!" And to the garret it went. 

One day she brought him his tobacco, hoping it 
might relieve a strange but much to be expected state 
of gloom. He gave one look at it, was seized with 
vomiting, cast the pipe and box into the stove and 
never wanted any more. The very thought of the 
weed made him faint, and ever after the smell of it set 
him to vomiting profusely. 

He had some trying experiences. Satan at- 
tempted to argue with him on the ground of his ex- 
treme age, his poverty, his lack of children to aid him, 
his frequent inability to attend Divine worship. He 
even taunted him with "offering the Almighty the fag- 
end of a long life of sin." All he could answer was, 
"I will, I will, I will die clean, by the help of God. If 
I knew I should be lost I'd still die clean. God said 

236 



NOT SO CRAZY, AFTER ALL 

He'd help me. He said He'd save me. I'll let Him!" 

One day there was nothing in the larder, winter 
was coming on and the enemy told him the church 
had forgotten him. He still cried, "I'll die clean!" 
That evening a wagon load of saints visited his humble 
home with food and money sufficient for all winter's 
needs. It broke the old man's heart. Tears of grat- 
itude poured from his eyes and vows of trustful obe- 
dience rolled from his tongue. Thank God, "Old 
Tight" became Mr. Titus, was known as such a num- 
ber of years and died clean. No! He still lives and 
is eternally pure, for "Jesus promised" everlasting life. 

As I recall my experience with that man I realize 
that the barrier to newness of life with scores of drink 
victims is the lack of will to be helped. On the word 
of our Lord I am thoroughly convinced that even with 
their will-power so nearly gone, if, like this very aged 
man they would give God the little they still possess 
of desire to be right, and die clean, He would keep 
His word and deliver them. 

Years after when I spoke of this story to a large 
congregation in a distant state, a traveling man rose 
to corroborate my statements, saying he had visited 
the home of Mr. Titus and learned these details from 
his neighbors, and thanked God for their truth. 

Christians, do not forget to minister continually to 
the penitent one, lest he lack some bitter day in trust 
and loyalty, and fail to DIE CLEAN. 



237 



CHAPTER XXXII. 
My Aunt Submit 

•'A song for those steadfast mothers, 
Whose patience was so strong; 
Through winter sleet 
And through summer heat 
They passed with joyous song. 

A song for those pure foremothers 

Whose blood like leaven runs; 
Where'er the crest 

Of the nation's best 
Is borne by her daughters and sons. 

A song for the silent mothers, 

Whose souls are now on high ; 
We bow the head 

To honor the dead 
Who knew how to live and to die.'' 

Before I go again to the prairies in my story, I 
must devote a few lines to the memory of my dear 
aunt Submit. What a name — and for such a type of 
woman! My uncle Nuel Townsley's wife, aunt Mettie 
had lived in old Buckland, Massachusetts, during the 
long years of her married life, and was there in her 
widowhood when I first went back east. 

Of course, with childhood memories uppermost in 
my mind, I rode up to her farm house door. She lit- 
erally and eagerly dragged me from the buggy to the 

238 



MY AUNT SUBMIT 

old fashioned living room, seated me, and sitting op- 
posite, gazed on me with tear-filled eyes. After uttering 
tender words about Charlotte's sudden going (referring 
to my mother) she broke out, "Wall, — child, I hear 
you're a preacher. Umph! You? bless your little 
curly pate of years gone b)^, you a preacher! Humph! 

Suddenly seizing me by the arm, she said, "Come 
with me!" I followed her through the kitchen and 
the shed, out past two neat barns and a woodhouse, 
when she pushed me through a doorway into a smaller 
shed, pointed to a wooden box and said, "I don't care 
as much about your preaching as your praying. Get 
down there, child, and pray for Submit Putnam!" 

(Auntie was a direct descendant cf General Israel 
Putnam of colonial history, and well deserved the sur- 
name, but the Submit calls for a mental interrogation.) 

She knelt by me while I tried to thank God for 
the lesson of the years, the discipline of life, the hopes 
eternal, and the Heaven where so many of our loved 
ones were awaiting us. Then she prayed, O so earn- 
estly, for "Charlotte's girl," that she might be a true 
messenger of the Lord, and a noble woman. After 
this she took one extra pinch of snuff and led me back 
to the house. 

"O," she said, "I can see that little brother of 
yours before you moved west, bringing me his farewell 
gift, as he came so gracefully to me, just like a little 
weeping wilier, saying, 'Aunt Mittie I love you, and 
we're going away and I want to give you something.' ' 
"Here it is" she added handing me the little trinket 
the child had cherished, but none too well to give to her. 

After her son Henry had gone into the Civil War, 
239 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Auntie wrote my mother, that if she could get that 
boy back again she'd keep him at home if she had "to 
lock him up in the pork barrel." — A rather close fit, 
for broad-shouldered six feet tall cousin Henry, who 
went with many another son leaving a patriotic though 
tender-hearted mother behind him. 

Aunt Mittie had one great horror. She was avow- 
edly afraid to die. Not of the life beyond, but of the 
separation of soul and body ; and she had nourished 
and fed this horror by collecting all the obituary no- 
tices and verses from all the local newspapers, for mil- 
es around, and, pasting them in a huge scrap book, 
kept them on the parlor table as among her choicest 
possessions. My blood curdles in my veins as I recall 
the dreadful things Aunt Mittie read me and the odd 
tombstone pictures she showed me, cut from under- 
takers', and marble cutters' advertisements. I took 
Miss Buck once to see her, and reason with her, but 
apparently in vain. The last visit I made auntie, was 
when I was to preach in the village church. An hour 
before I was to start for the "meeting-house," aunt 
Mittie got on her long cloak, took her cane and started 
forth, "Wait, and go with me and the pastor, later" I 
pleaded. With a superior air of mingled reproof and 
explanation, auntie turned to me saying, "Child, I 
never go a-prancin' into the meetin-house, arter the 
multitude has assembled." And there in the Amen 
corner she sat, on my arrival. She welcomed me home 
that evening with a hearty, "The Lord gave us a 
blessin' " and reiterated the same till I retired. Shs 
came up stains to tuck me in, and I seized the oppor- 
tunity to expostulate concerning her best quilt whose 

249 



MY AUNT SUBMIT 

ornamental figures were bright red roosters in the act 
of crowing. The quilting was fine, but I had to assure 
auntie that the only thing I found it hard to love, of 
all God's creation was a lordly, crowing red rooster, 
and begged for more soporific bedding instead, which 
she laughingly granted me. Before I left her, I beg- 
ged her to think better of God than to fear He would 
fail his child in her last hours, and forget to give her 
peace in the latter end of her day :. I assured her that 
I should offer one payer for her, daily, — that she 
might go, peacefully, easily, into the fuller life await- 
ing her. So I was not surprised a year later to hear 
that she felt "too tired to get up" one morning and 
being carried from her bed to the lounge down stairs, 
simply and sweetly slept herself away — away — how 
far? God knows. 

"But when her eyes, with rapture clear, 

Did read the heavenly score, 
Hers in the endless song was but 

The part she knew before!" 



241 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 
Dying, But I Get Well 

"I grasp His banner still, 
Though all its blue be dim ; 
The stripes, no less than stars, 
Lead up to Him." 

With earnest purpose and consecrated motive I 
took hold of the work at Wheaton. Full houses and 
a larger Sunday School were encouraging, but the need 
of pastoral visiting was apparent, and one of the most 
precious parts of my church work was earnestly begun. 
The hottest weather came down upon us; and hunting 
boarding places, rooming at last in one house while 
taking meals at a restaurant was not conducive to 
health. How many calls I made in the hot sun I can- 
not tell, but I realize now that I ought to have drop- 
ped all work for a few months and gone to rest, liter- 
ally, in some northern woods. But I had not the 
money wherewith to carry out such a plan. I could 
often have saved future distresses by the ownership 
of a little more money that I could call my own. 

Very often mother's old quotation comes to me, — 
"The destruction of the poor, is their poverty/' and 
the bitter cry for a place of my own has gone up from 
my heart through the homeless years. Yet there was 
a great need at Wheaton and a great effort was mine 
to fill it. Miss Holloway, realizing my imperfect health 
and loneliness of spirit, accompanied me to Wheaton. 

242 



DYING, BUT I GET WELL 

One day she asked me to write for her some verses 
embodying my thought of home, and I wrote her these 
lines which Miss Willard later acknowledged in the 
following note. 

Evanston, Illinois, November 27, 1897. 
Rev. Frances E. Townsley, 

Dearest Sister: — Your poem is a charm. I have 
put it in my Bible. What you have so tenderly ex- 
pressed is one of the most familiar thoughts in my 
heart. The poem ought to be in the UNION SIGNAL. 
Will you not send it? I have a warm affection for 
you and I often hear you quoted "one of the ablest 
women" which is my strong opinion. 

God bless you in all your good work. 
Your loving, 

Sister Frances. 
MY HOME. 
"In my Father's House are many Homes." (with 
free rendering of literal Greek.) 

I have none here. Nay! Do not say I'm wrong. 
I have full many friends whose hearts are true; 
Whose hands' fond pressure in my need is strong 
To help, and fill my soul with courage new. 

They give me shelter from the summer's heat 
And winter's snow, in kindest, gladdest tone. 
In their own homes, — ah, this the grief complete — 
Their homes — alas! I have none of my own. 

"My Father's House." Once, years and years ago, 
A father's care gave me a royal place 
In his own dwelling, and, his darling child, 
I wore the crown of love's unbounded grace. 

243 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I'm orphaned now, and of His precious words, 
Each one of which with peace or healing comes, 
No sweeter can be read me than the Lord's 
11 Within my Father's House are many homes.' J 

A home means Welcome; and I have that here; 
It means Repose; and I sometimes know this; 
It means Affection; and the true and dear 
Oft greet me with Sincerity's sweet kiss. 

But one pang ever pierces my poor heart, 
One grief oppresses me where'er I roam; 
Tho' friends do love me, we can live apart, 
I am not needed to complete their Home. 

The wife's assurance and the mother's grace, 
The father's ownership and certainty, 
The child's demand for love and care and place 
Unearned, yet given freely, royally, 

Are sweet to see; yet unto no such band 
Christ's farewell word, with such deep meaning comes, 
As unto lonely hearts who understand, — 
The "In my Father's house are many Homes." 

He said "I do prepare for you a place." 
Prepare? a place for me? where I belong? 
Whose right of ownership none may displace, 
Because the love which makes it mine is strong? 

Prepare! He knows what things I love the best, 
What tokens of His grace I long to share; 
He knows my weakness and my need of rest, 
And how to answer each unspoken prayer. 

His Home and Mine! I can afford to wait, 
And waiting smile; for One who needs me sore 

244 



DYING, BUT I GET WELL 

Is fitting up my Mansion. At it's gate 
He waits to open unto me the door. 

He wooed me with Love's pleading, yearning breath, 
He asked for me in dark Gethsemane; 
He trod for me the sepulcher of death, 
And lives, to claim my love eternally! 

And without me, his joy is incomplete; 
One place is empty until I shall come; 
And when I fall before His blessed feet, 
He'll lift me to His Heart, in my own home. 

I cannot recall when I first joined the Women's 
Christian Temperance Union. Doubtless shortly after 
it was organized. To its principles I have ever been 
true, and count its service a blest employ. At Miss 
WiDard's personal request, made when she was travel- 
ing in a most glorious prohibition campaign through 
Nebraska, I consented to be registered as a National 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union Evangelist, 
though my pastoral work has never been neglected for 
an hour because of this. The work I have sought to 
do for this organization has been put in between fields, 
and at National Conventions, and in connection with 
local unions to which I have carried my letter and 
credentials as I have gone from one pastorate to an- 
other. 

Visiting the sick, burying the dead, and doing all 
I could to build up a church which needed teaching as 
surely as visiting, I passed three months. Then I was 
one day suddenly taken down with pain and fever. 
Dear Dr. Pratt of college memories, came to my aid 
and said, "Malarial fever/' I was better after a few 

245 



A PILGRIM MAID 

days, thanks to his skill and our Father's care, and 
went to my Maywood home and Miss Buck to build 
up. 

I was doing finely when I was invited to ride, and 
rode too far; was taken worse, and May wood's Dr. 
Clendenneu was called. He quietly told Miss Buck to 
get me down into the back parlor, as I was in for a 
run of rheumatic fever. 

I had suffered with two attacks of this in child- 
hood and the prospect was sad. Dr. Pratt from Whea- 
ton, and, as I grew worse Dr. E. H. Pratt of Chicago 
were called to advise with Dr. Clendenneu. One who 
has been rheumatized from the neck to the toes will 
not ask if my sufferings were severe. At length a 
nurse was needed to relieve my faithful sisters, Miss 
Buck and Miss Holloway, who never failed in solici- 
tous attention and patient devotion. Had 1 not known 
I was in the divine Father's care I should have prayed 
to die, my pain was so intense. Fifteen pillows were 
packed about my knees, ankles and elbows, and these 
must all be moved about once in five minutes. The 
fear of the physicians was that the difficulty would at 
any moment attack the base of the brain or my heart. 

One afternoon Dr. Pratt told my friends that I 
would probably pass through the crisis the coming 
midnight. Never once had it dawned on me that I 
might die! Never once had I thought my case so ser- 
ious as that. One great and awful physical pain was 

all I had known. Even when Miss B had asked 

me to let her slip a pen through my bandaged hand 
and move it for me while I should sign my name to 
some paper I had left on my desk, without proper 

246 



DYING, BUT I GET WELL 

signature, — did I think of aught but increased torture, 
as like a little sick child, I gasped — "0! Millie, I can't. 
Don't ask me!" With tears in her eyes she said "Nev- 
er mind now, Dear?" and the matter dropped. 

That night as the nurse had dropped to sleep on 
a couch at the foot of my bed, and Millie was in an 
adjoining room professedly to rest, between twelve 
and one o'clock after the prolonged suffering, in which 
I had no sense of God, no realization of His love, and 
could only inwardly moan — "One breath more; one 
more moment to endure!" — there swept through my 
entire being a peculiar sensation, a strange electric cur- 
rent, and my soul and I began a little conversation: 

Soul. It's strange, but possibly after years of active 

life, you are going to die. 
I. What, I die? In my thirties, with no thought 

of it till this hour? 
Soul. What are you going into? Where, with whom 

is your future? 
I. Future? I've only one great and dreadful bod- 

ily pain to realize now. I can't die. 
Soul. You have helped a great many to set sail on 

the mighty deep of the Vast Unknown, Who 

will help you? 
I. Yes, indeed, Where is my pilot? Let me see. — 

"In the beginning — God." 
Soul. Yet how can you touch God? How reach the 

infinite? He seemed so far away! 
I. It is what Tennyson said: 

"So runs my dream. But what am I? 

An infant crying in the the night, — 

An infant crying for the light, 
247 



A PILGRIM MAID 

And with no language but a cry/ 7 

And still I groped on to find if possible Him 
Who was "in the beginning — God." 
Soul. God is everywhere. Pray to Him. 
I. I cannot pray. I am too sick. God and I 

know things that must be set right, and the 
mere fact of being a christian worker brings me 
no merit, in view of my own needs, sins, fears. 
O, I cannot die. 
I've had no time to ask for the chosen men and 
helpful women I have long desired should say a few 
words over my clay when you, soul, should have 
gone on and left it behind. 

I must have time to call to them and command 
them to say no praiseful words concerning me. O! 
God! Where art Thou? Stoop lower. I cannot rise 
to Thee — "In the beginning — God." 

God? Ah! had I not somewhere heard something 
about this God — something like this: "God so loved 
the world that He gave His only begotten son that 
whosoever believeth on him might not perish but have 
everlasting life."? I had declared it to thousands. I 
had never professed to understand it, and there that 
lonely midnight hour — (it would have been as lonely 
had the house been filled with friends,) I stretched 
forth my arms, in faith and fell, sick, blind, a sinner 
upon the bosom of the sent Son of God, and whispered, 
"O soul of mine, go or stay, here or there, living or 
dying, I rest on the message of John 3:16." 

And today, after twenty-five years I know that 
when I do really go, I shall not cling to, but rest upon 
the author of Eternal Life, declared in John 3:16. 

248 



DYING, BUT I GET WELL 

My friends entering gave me some medicine and 
at four o'clock Dr. E. H. Pratt, driving out so early 
from the cit}^ (for this was before the days of suburban 
transit) was met by Miss Buck saying, "O, Dr., she is 
very low this morning. Come in, I fear she is going." 
And he stepped cheerfully to my bed-side, and said, 
"No Millie, she is better, really better, this morning." 

It seemed strange to hear this. I felt so weak, 
so nauseated, so sick. But I learned that this was be- 
cause I was able to realize now for myself my weak- 
ness for the first time. 

Very slowly I regained my strength sufficiently 
to be called a convalescent. To my kind, careful, pa- 
tient, loved ones I ever owe a debt of gratitude. To 
my doctors also a debt, not payable in sordid gold. 
Their professional charges were made extremely low, 
and met by the last dollar I could call my own. 

They advised three months of absolute rest. Re- 
turn to Wheaton was positively forbidden. So writ- 
ing to dear old Vermont, I was bidden to come on a 
visit, and be entertained by friends at Middlebury, 
West Cornwall, Fair Haven (of course) and Poultney. 
So reading no newspaper, my Bible but once a day, 
and speaking only once in most of the towns where I 
had previously declared the Gospel of Salvation, my 
three months were thus spent. Miss Holloway ac- 
companied and cared for me, the money needed com- 
ing — God knew how! — every New England friend was 
as tender as a mother or sister or brother. The lovely 
little lakes we visited! The mountain scenery we en- 
joyed! People who were busy, yet found room for us, 
and ministered unto "one of the least" of His with as- 

249 



A PILGRIM MAID 

siduous and grateful affection. 

My journal notes of 1881 give more clearly than 
memory can produce the following items: 

Hinesburg, Vermont, Tuesday, Sept. 20. 

While resting with the Harmon-Beecher family 
we hear the tolling bells whose mournful notes declare 
that President Garfield has gone to God. Flags are 
draped in black at half mast. O the poor wife! O 
the children and the aged mother! And O, the Unit- 
ed States! Is there one on earth to have mercy on 
Chas. Guiteau — "that insufferable proximity to a fool." 

"Sept. 30. Still regaining health. Have a con- 
versation with an old-time pupil who is smart, ambi- 
tious, but so restless, and finds the lesson of self- 
abnegation and trust hard to learn. And during this 
vacation my sorrow for brother Frank is increasingly 
heavy. He is traveling with little financial means in 
Colorado, "the only spot where he can breathe." 

Not to know where he lies at night, whether he 
finds friends or hinderers on his lonely tramps, is torture 
to my helpless heart. I have "prayed in an agony" 
for wisdom for us both and help for him. 

Then comes a letter from B. J. Soper of Malone, 
New York, of the Baptist State Convention, who has 
talked with me, about New York fields, saying he 
would secure a book-keeper's position for Frank if I 
would like to have him near me, which news he has 
just telegraphed my brother. He also enclosed ten 
dollars to me. JEHOVAH JIREH! 

Have written a few tracts and leaflets while wait- 
ing. Revised an amateur's poem for the Century. Ans- 
wered a distant pastor's letter asking about Power for 

250 



DYING, BUT I GET WELL 

Service. Have written letters to several bereft ones, 
and made some sermon notes. In answer to special 
pleading finally receive letters as to my possible future. 
Frank has come east to Malone, where Mr. Soper 
employs him, and telegraphs us to come to see him. 
We find the dear fellow weak and coughing badly, but 
brave as ever. He took five hundred miles of his trip 
standing, as ulcers on his limbs prevent his sitting 
down. I can see he is not likely to stay long on earth. 
He was much cheered by our visit. It was a joy to 
meet him and mend and care for my only brother. 

Mr. Soper has asked me in the interest of New 
York state work to supply and care for the Fort Cov- 
ington Baptist church for a time, so I am not idle, 
and am only fifteen miles (by team) from my brother 
at Malone, who is book-keeping in one of Mr. Soper's 
numerous stores. 

Furthermore, as I need Miss Holloway, Mr. Soper 
has opened a small store after the department sort 
and put her in charge of it at Fort Covington. 

Starting up the neglected covenant and prayer 
meetings, visiting church members, preaching, reorgan- 
izing the choir, and methods of finance and church 
benevolence, occupy me, and my health seems quite 
restored. 

I have accepted a call to remain " until such time 
as my brother's frail health makes it my first and im- 
perative duty to devote myself entirely to him." 

First prayer meeting here brings together one man 
and several women. Soon the prayer room is crowded. 
The Sabbath morning services are well attended. The 
evening services pack the audience room, aisles and 
vestibule. 

251 



A PILGRIM MAID 

One Saturday Mr. Soper and my brother came to 
spend the Sabbath day. Now Frank had never heard 
me preach. Partly from shyness, no doubt, he had 
kept away the different times I had spoken in Chicago. 
But this Saturday evening as I tucked him up in bed 
at my boarding place, after much fear and trembling 
I said, "Frank, you have never endorsed my work, 
never heard me speak in public, I do not mean to be 
immodest or impose upon you but I expect you to hear 
me once tomorrow! You owe it to me." "Certainly, 
I will go," he answered. And the next morning I ad- 
vised him to stay at home till evening as he coughed 
hard. In the evening Mr. Soper said, Til take your 
brother down to church with me. I'm going early to 
teach your ushers how to pack this church. The 
house, as usual, was packed to the doors when I ar- 
rived. And Mr. Soper had seated Frank in a well chosen 
pew, not directly before me. I looked at the boy with 
unspeakable memories as I announced my text. "But 
what went ye out for to see?"; then I forgot him and 
preached as if he had not been there. 

As 1 kissed him good night two hours later he 
clutched my hands and said, "Thank you, Fan. That 
was the best all round sermon Fve heard in ten years. 
I am glad of this great work you are doing." After, 
he grew so weak and coughed so much, that the other 
clerks in the counting room refused "to work in the 
same room with a standing corpse, or a cheerfully 
patient skeleton," and I brought him to Fort Coving- 
ton to my boarding place, and was greatly comforted 
to be able to nurse and tend him myself. 

252 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 
With Frank At Glory's Gateway 

"This is the death of Death: 
To breath away a breath 
And know the end of strife, 
And taste the deathless life.' 7 

All too soon the invalid's mania returned, and he 
"must go to the blue sky and fine air of Colorado to 
breathe his last breaths more easily/' Entreaties were 
in vain. And sadder than the day of his death to me, 
was the one on which I saw him start to the far West 
alone. At last came the expected letter saying he was 
nearing the end. I resigned, as planned, and with 
faithful Miss Holloway started for Chicago, where we 
bought bedding and quite a nurse's outfit and went on 
to Colorado Springs as we had been bidden. We found 
Frank had not reached there. In an agony of sus- 
pense we spent three days, the guest of L. E. Sherman 
and wife, he of Vermont. And the third day comes a 
telegram dated at Hastings, Neb., nearly seven hun- 
dred miles back saying, "The beginning of the end; 
come at once." 

It took us twenty minutes to repack, catch our 
train and start, aided by our host's brotherly kindness 
and with a sore but trustful heart I started on my way 
praying to find and help my boy. 

253 



A PILGRIM MAID 

The hospitality shown to strangers in the west, 
who can estimate or record? Worn and heart-burdened 
we arrived in the grey dawn of an ever remembered 
day. The burly bus driver's " Where do you want to 
go, ladies?" was met by my sister-friend, who ex- 
plained to him that the telegram was only partly sent, 
and we did not know in which of the five hotels the 
invalid was staying. "Get into my bus, if your sick 
brother is anywhere in this part of the country I'll 
find him for you," he said. And he began the tour of 
the city. In the fifth hotel we found my brother. He 
threw his arms about me and blessed me as "the best 
sister in the world," and no other praise had ever 
sounded as sweet to me! 

I got him some refreshment and then put him to 
bed, saying "I'm on the hunt for rooms, stay till I 
come for you." From seven-thirty till four o'clock, 
we walked the streets of the new, hospitable city of 
five thousand people, and through the aid of a lady 
physician, and one or two Baptist people to whom I 
presented my credentials and a letter of introduction, 
we found in a pretty home two large rooms. Renting 
and furnishing these I hurried back to move my poor 
brother, and as he fell back on his pillows such a sense 
of relief was his and, be sure, my own, as compensated 
for all it meant to me of weariness, and expense, and 
the leaving of my dear, little flock in N. Y., whose 
prompt payment of rny salary from month to month 
had made the care of my brother there and here 
possible. 

Then followed five weeks of nursing, though I 
knew, as did Frank, the end and its nearness. I count 

254 



WITH FRANK AT GLORY'S GATEWAY 

those weeks the happiest of many years. Unitarian, 
Methodist, Baptist and Congregational church officers, 
women from the different churches, and Y. M. C. A. 
helpers, all came to render aid. We took care of my 
brother day and night for three weeks. (To my joy 
he liked Miss Holloway's care and quiet, helpful min- 
istrations). 

We formed some life-long friends in Hastings, 
Rev. J. H. Mize, Baptist, in whose pulpit I spoke once 
during those days, Mr. W T alter Snook, a veritable En- 
glishman, a Steward of the Methodist church, and his 
noble, American wife, were from those days ever after, 
our own indeed. 

My brother, so reticent and reserved all the years 
since mother left us, returned to the bright, chatty, 
winsome ways of his childhood, and though he told 
me many sad incidents of his motherless invalidism, 
assuring me that "every night for the fourteen years 
since mother died," he had "prayed to go to her be- 
fore the morning," yet he gave me hopeful, loving 
cheer, told me I would always find friends, and had a 
noble work to do, from which he deeply grieved to 
have been obliged to call me, and said, "I shall see 
mother long before you will, Fannie." 

He enjoyed hearing the Word read to him by 
callers or myself, and when one minister read so long 
and prayed so continuously that he left the sick man 
in a fainting spell, as I interrupted the prayer and 
moistened the sufferer's lips, and said as the caller 
passed out, "Forgive me, Frank, this shall not occur 
again," he only murmured, "He's a good man, dear, 
but he don't understand. It's no matter." 

255 



A PILGRIM MAID 

At length watchers were obliged to come to my 
aid and the city Y. M. C. A. President and Mr. Snook, 
Judge Fleming and other prominent men, at my boy's 
urging that I rest, came to care for him the long nights. 
They said, "We never saw so patient a sufferer, so 
courteous a gentleman, so grateful a soul. You say 
he is nearly thirty. He looks hardly twenty-two. " 

One evening he drew me toward him and said, "I 
thank you once more, Fannie, for all; 77 as he kissed me. 

I said, "Dear, promise me you will not forget me 
in the glory, where you will soon be, while I am left 
behind to struggle on alone." He whispered, ''Can I 
ever forget such a sister's love? It has followed me 
long, and borne with me kindly. You came to me and 
gave up so much. I bless you, Fannie, dear." 

None but God can know how precious these ten- 
der words will ever be to me. I had waited long to 
hear them and prayed all the way from New York that 
God would grant me a visible, or uttered assurance 
that Frank did know I loved him and had for years, 
and also that I might have positive evidence of his 
love for me! I have these precious things, dearer, 
richer than the applause of crowds of strangers. Long 
yearned for, they are mine! Such friends as these 
Hastings people proved, I never saw among strangers 
before. No, not strangers any more. 

As strength permitted, Frank recited rare poems 
and gave me a tiny scrap-book containing these and 
others, indicative of his love of the choice and best 
literature, the comforting, the prayerful. Over and 
over he recited lines from the old "Ode to the Spirit 
departing." 

256 



WITH FRANK AT GLORY'S GATEWAY 

"Vital spark of heavenly flame 
Quit,— oh quit this feeble frame! 
Lingering, hoping, fearing, crying, 
O, the pain, the bliss of dying!" 
And so often he would whisper, 

"Cease fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life." 
In his satchel I found these words : 
"My dear Fannie, I wish to be buried in Hastings. 
I wish my funeral expenses to be as low as possible." 
"I desire the funeral services to be simple." "I 
desire one insertion cf the notice of my death sent to 
the Chicago Tribune, and one to the Orleans, Nebraska, 
Sentinel." "I don't wish any remarks added to the 
notice of my death in any paper." "Please mail en- 
closed letters." 

From May 29 we watched him very closely. 
"Death has no terrors for me." "I see a bright and 
shining light, which I cannot talk about," were words 
from his patient lips. 

Saying to him one day that his thin, wan face 
would soon be glorified, I caught his answer, as throw- 
ing up his arms, he said, "Yes! Yes! Up there! 
Not here. Up there!" 

June 2 about twilight, Miss Holloway having gone 
out for a few minutes at my urging, a beloved friend 
whom Frank had so learned to love, sat by his bed 
with me, having asked if he might stay to the last, as 
he had "never seen a christian die." I was glad of 
tender, appreciative, sympathetic presence. Frank 
had been dying so long, so slowly and so painfully! 
As I leaned over him to say "It's bitterly hard to see 

257 



A PILGRIM MAID 

you suffer so, unable to relieve you, darling!'! I 
caught his last spoken word to me, as he pressed my 
hand as long as he had strength, and uttered the as- 
surrance of his faith, coupled with his suffering cry — 
"It's all right — Fannie — water!" 0, the River of Wa- 
ter of Life! Fountains of living water! 

How much such words now mean to some. Sud- 
denly, unaided he lifted his beautiful head from the 
pillow, looked straight up, off, into the distance, and 
as his lovely grey eyes filled with a glory, not of earth, 
he sank back with a restful sigh, — and was with the 
blessed. I started up and cried, "Tell me Frank, 
what do you seef And still I am waiting for him to 
answer. My christian friend fell upon his knees, and 
poured forth such a praiseful, tender prayer as follows 
me with its benediction still. 

The funeral service was quiet, restful, comforting. 
Rev. Mr. Stewart, Congregational, and Pastor Mise, 
Baptist, speaking briefly, the wife of the former sing- 
ing with one or two others; Brother Mise offering the 
prayer at the grave. 

Some who read know how hard it was for me to 
leave that worn body in the cemetery and take up 
anew, my life work lonelier than before. I had pur- 
chased a lot in the quiet resting place of the dead at 
Hastings, where roses bloom and prairie grasses, which 
he so loved, wave in the balmy air. About once in 
ten years I have been able to visit the spot. There, 
by his side, I too may be laid, "Some sweet day, Bye 
and bye." 

The next week brought me letters of sympathy, 
one from Wheaton friends, enclosing seventeen dollars, 

258 



WITH FRANK AT GLORY'S GATEWAY 

one from Hinesburg, Vermont, enclosing a similar 
amount. What friends I've ever had. I needed rest. 
This was evident. So we secured a large room in the 
home of Mr. and Mrs. Snook and boarded through the 
Summer. There, enjoying such christian fellowship 
and physical upbuilding as was sorely needed, that 
year to my dear Miss Holloway and myself, proved 
one of the richest and most precious. 

AT THE GARDEN TOMB. 

Down from the heavens on wings of snow, 

Cleaving the upper air, 
Swift where the morning twilight's grow, 

Crimsons a garden fair, 

Angels sweep to the gates of grief, 

Down to the bars of gloom, 
Smiting the powers of unbelief 

Guarding a rocky tomb. 

Back rolls the stone from the sealed door, 

Down sits an angel there! 
List to his greeting, evermore 

Answering agony's prayer. 

List, my soul, to the heaven-sent word; 

Bear it, earth, to-day! 
He who was dead is the Risen Lord! 

See where the Savior lay. 

Look, mine eyes, where the Orient's gleam 

Hints a diviner surprise. 
See! One stands with majestic mien, 

Heaven in his radiant eyes. 
259 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Hush! Tis thine Easter's dawning hour, 

Kneel for annointing chrism! 
Rise in the Resurrection power, 

Forth, for 'The Lord is risen! 7 ' 

Smile through tears which thy doubt hath shed, 

Utter thy witnessing word: 
I, who went down to embalm my dead, 

Have looked on the Living Lord 



260 



CHAPTER XXXV. 
Impressions of the West 

"And God is God, my darling, 
Of the night as well as the day, 
And we feel and know that we can go 
Wherever He leads the way. 

Aye — God of the night, my darling, 

Of the night of Death, so grim, 

And the gate that leads out of Life, dear wife, 

Is the gate that leads to Him." 

Here I was in Nebraska finding eastern people, its 
pioneers and builders. Is its Baptistic need notice- 
able, with seventy-seven thousand square miles of area, 
as large as all New England, with New Jersey thrown 
in? When I entered its borders in 1881, Omaha, its 
gate city had a population of sixty-nine thousand, the 
State a population of one million, with four thousand 
five hundred school houses and a school fund of 
five million five hundred thousand dollars. During 
1887, one thousand one hundred miles of railway were 
built in the State; and at the cost of three million five 
hundred dollars, had been built across the Missouri 
River between Council Bluffs and Omaha, a bridge, a 
model of engineering skill, one of the best bridges in 
the United States, one thousand seven hundred fifty 
feet long, and resting on five solid stone piers. 

261 



A PILGRIM MAID 

The push and energy of this new State pleased 
me. The first winter we had a blizzard or two, but 
New York reported six, so in one thing this year, Ne- 
braska seemed behind. Denominationally — what? 
Before the beginning of 1887 the State had one hun- 
dred and fifty-five Baptist pastors. The Baptist need 
seemed to be consecrated leaders, ready for hard work, 
who could live on five or six hundred dollars a year, 
plus appreciation, which is better than hard cash, and 
yet expresses itself in that necessary article as fast 
and as far as Nebraska churches are able to prove. 
Only the larger towns and cities were then able to pay 
twelve to fifteen hundred dollar salaries. But I found 
many pretty little villages with from nine hundred to 
three thousand population who could pay a Baptist 
pastor a small salary, but where excellent work might 
be done, denominational truths made plain and wel- 
come, and from which a man's influence was often felt- 
through associational and state convention work, all 
over the state. Some of the most influential men of 
literary and scholastic ability were pastors in small 
villages. 

Let me suggest that when a church is called dead, 
in this part of the West, it often is quite alive; so much 
so as to resemble a flea: when you want to put your 
hand on him he isn't there. I mean: A town will build 
a Baptist meeting house, start off prosperously, prom- 
isingly and proudly, and after a few years that church 
is not there. Is it dead? No. Into its membership 
came a goodly number of excellent Christians. They 
did extremely good work. Finally, the new railroad, 
a few miles distant, took their business men, their 

262 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

money and zeal; and carrying financial ability and 
denominational grit with them, these movers were 
helping other Baptist churches in the newer town, as 
pillars of some church, though the one first named has 
ceased to be, as has its town. 

Then, again, a part of a church, its best part, per- 
haps, as far as financial strength is concerned, moves 
thus, leaving in a small place a Baptist element of in- 
telligence, held there by circumstances, who really 
want a minister, and will pay all they can for one. 
But, "Is your town likely to grow? If not we feel 
that we must go to larger fields/' is the student's way 
of settling the matter. Now, this may be right; I am 
only saying, "What shall the small fields do?" And 
let me suggest that they would prove good fields for 
beginners, and give them some extra hours of study, if 
they wish, and a chance to practice before they go on, 
in after years, to larger fields. 

So in Lincoln and Omaha I found young, active 
church workers, not only from the hilly slopes of Ver- 
mont, but from the little towns of Nebraska drawn to 
the larger cities, by business and normal institutes in 
which Lincoln seemed to abound. Who had fitted 
these young christians for the activity manifested in 
strategic centers? The pastor and his helpers in small 
fields with fewer privileges. 

Nebraska seemed to me an important State, as 
leading on to the farther West, one destined to be the 
battle ground in the conflit between truth and error 
for this part of the world. 

Hastings had had a "boom" and the relapse con- 
sequent thereupon. Pastor Mise was laying the foun- 

263 



A PILGRIM MAID 

dations strongly and well for the future Baptist church, 
now under the care of Rev. B. S. Hudson, in whose 
new, spacious building on a recent visit, I was invited 
to preach, rejoicing in the growth and leadership of 
this church, dear to my heart. 

In the early days of my labors in Nebraska I visit- 
ed Fairbury, where Rev. Mark Noble, afterward toil- 
ing so efficiently, with renewed youth, in Oregon, one 
of Spurgeon's college men, from England, had turned 
the prairie sod of his knew home : eighteen years before, 
and some time after started on that prairie one or two 
Baptist churches. The one at Fairbury grew slowly, 
but guarded by His fostering care Who had sent 
Brother Noble West, it increased in numbers, and 
when I was called to hold a series of meetings there, 
it was in a town of four thousand people, a junction 
of five railroads and the place of many lovely homes, 
where several different denominations were well repre- 
sented. I stayed nine days, the guest of blessed Dea- 
con A. C. Whiting and his hospitable wife, and from 
the " Western Baptist" I quote this item: 

''During Miss Townsley's nine days' visit at Fair- 
bury, about forty additions to the Baptist church were 
gained, a few coming from the Methodist, Campbellite 
and Presbyterian churches. Home and foreign mission 
work was organized, two robing rooms planned and 
soon finished, and the pastor's salary increased. Soon 
after, with a check for his expenses to Washington, D. 
C, and Richmond, Virginia, to attend the national an- 
niversaries and the Southern Baptist Convention, and 
with the gift of a brand new suit of clothes, the church 
sent him away for a little change and recreation." 

264 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

In the early fall after Frank's release, calls multi- 
plied from Nebraska churches and I held a short and, 
to me, not very successful series of meetings at Hast- 
ings. Heavy temporal burdens seemed to hinder deep 
spirituality in the membership. W. E. Blackstone, 
now famed for his work in behalf of the Jew, and Pal- 
estine, sent me about this time a line saying, "I feel 
deeply impressed to forward you this check for $25.00, 
so, amid many cares I stop to enclose it in this brief 
note." 

Mother's word held good, — "The Lord will pro- 
vide." So our Hastings room rent was paid, and our 
travelling expenses met, as we went on to Edgar, 
Alexandria, and other fields to find them white to the 
harvest, and to gather many sheaves for the Master. 

In Alexandria, stout oaks of Bashan bent before 
the whirlwind of the Lord. Intense conviction led to 
genuine conversions, and we recall the visit with deep- 
est joy and gratitude. Self indulgence on the part of 
-some church officials gave way to pentience and reform. 
Pastor Lewellyn, a pioneer in Nebraska Baptist history 
called to ask "the secret of power/' and said approv- 
ing words of confidence in my leadership which bowed 
me i o the dust in humility. Yet his tobacco habit 
held this dear man down when he longed "to rise in 
the arms of the faith and be closer drawn to God." 

Often we found here, three in a family in the in- 
quiry meeting. Forty or more professed conversion. 

My brother's doctor bill and funeral expenses 
were paid before I left Nebraska. Later in the winter 
we were called by Pastor Hood of the Pilgrim Congre- 
gational Church to Minneapolis, Minnesota. I said if 

265 



A PILGRIM MAID 

the nearest Baptist church would unite in the work 
we would accept. The church did so. Its pastor, Dr. 
T. G. Field, could "not conscientiously endorse the 
public teaching of a woman/' though his wife brought 
up a Quaker, called on us and shared in the services, 
as did many Baptists of her husband's church. We 
boarded at the home of the Superintendent of Dr. 
Field's Sunday School, Mr. Weld. Yet seventeen 
were added to Dr. Field's church from the meeting, 
and many more to Dr. Hood's. The latter gave me 
the following testimonial, unasked, and printed in the 
"Pilgrim" of Minneapolis. 

"Miss Townsley is a very talented lad}', consecra- 
ted and "separated unto" her work with an experience 
of years. Her prominent qualities are a tender and 
affectionate nature; bright and quick mind, with a 
clear cut exegesis of the Bible, sensible everywhere, 
showing tact in her management of an audience and 
in personal work. Her intellectual ability and spirit- 
ual power make her very effective in her day-time 
readings and in preaching to the unconverted in the 
evening. There is nothing peculiar in her methods, 
nothing to become accustomed to, or to overlook for 
a church which has been at all accustomed to lady 
speakers. She is simply an earnest, devoted, modest, 
refined and successful worker. There is no limit to 
the results which may be expected, except from the 
failure of Christians to persistently attend the Bible 
readings and to bring the unconverted to the evening 
meetings, and to pray. God has blessed her work 
here, with more convictions proportionately than in 
any previous revival work we have engaged in." 

266 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

A worthy pastor's wife from a city in Minnesota, 
came to me in Minneapolis, beseeching me to help her 
husband, threatened with softening of the brain, by 
recommending him to some field on the Pacific Coast, 
where a change of climate and the surety of a salary 
sufficient to keep the wolf from their door, might re- 
store his health and develop his usefulness. 

At first I felt averse to heeding the request ; but 
in Christ's name I took the weary trip to the appointed 
city. I was blocked up by a blizzard till one in the 
morning, saw and studied the pastor in his home, and 
his church, realized the need of a speedy change of en- 
vironment for him, wrote a state missionary on the 
coast of his record, his failures and successes, his lacks 
and his possibilities; and said, "I believe if you can 
arrange to change this man's field about once in two 
or three years, he will accomplish good. His pastoral 
influence seems to wane in about two years, but he 
hangs onto a field till a great disaffection prevails; but 
under state control maybe he can be put in new fields 
frequently and so be retained to his own benefit and 
yours." 

The missionary called the brother to the coast, 
where he regained health and courage, and under the 
State Board, was moved every two or three years, al- 
ways thinking that he was doing all the resigning him- 
self, and a letter from the missionary superintendent 
assured me that he was very useful and happy. 

He is not the only pastor who has appealed to 
me because of my "wide acquaintance" and been 
aided similarly. 

My next meeting was at Faribault, Minnesota, at 
267 



A PILGRIM MAID 

the call of Pastors T. C. Stringer, Methodist Episcopal; 
E. Gale, Congregational, and E. C. Saunders, Baptist. 
The meeting was the best planned of any I've held in 
the West. Pastors came and prayed with us imme- 
diately on arrival. Arrangements were very system- 
atic, but what is system without the Holy Spirit? At 
Faribault I had my first experience in addressing the 
deaf and dumb of the State institute, where Superin- 
tendent Noyes assured me he was surprised at my 
"adaptability" where Mr. Moody and 0. O. Howard 
had nearly failed. It was a day to be remembered. 
The deaf and dumb sent Miss Holloway and myself a 
gold piece, as a token of their gratitude, with which 
we purchased two photograph albums as souvenirs of 
the tender occasion. 

Faribault seemed soaked in a culture-seeking 
rationalism. Half of one church was "dead set against 
revivals. " One pastor used tobacco, another, so good 
a man, was a confirmed invalid; but though the bur- 
den was heavy, I was sustained. We boarded at a 
hotel where the traveling men bribed the bell-boy to 
wake us several nights at unseemly hours to tell us 
"the bus was waiting," and after we were fully aroused 
from needed sleep, to apologize for "waking the wrong 
number." 

Beer bottles and whiskey flasks, old shoes and 
other refuse were hung on our door-knobs, and gentle 
remonstrance with the night clerk or manager pro- 
duced no reformation. "Never mind" I said to my 
companion, "I bide my time." It was my first and 
only experience of insult of the sort in all the years. 

When the entertainment committee and the pas- 
268 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

tors called to settle with us and pay the board bill, I 
insisted upon going to the Hotel office with them, and 
rehearsing the above annoying insults, saying, "Mr. 
Manager, you are responsible for disorder in your Ho- 
tel; although a christian and a lady, I am not a mush 
of concessions. I can, in my extensive travel, injure 
the reputation of this house. I've better things to do, 
but in common honor, you will now deduct one-third of 
the bill these gentlemen were to pay you, and receipt 
accordingly/' which he did. 

So many young people, students, social leaders 
and Sunday School workers came to us there for help! 
On Washington's birthday we held a meeting for young 
men and women, at which thirty-four said, "I have 
taken Christ as Savior and Lord." 

The work moved on slowly, but surely; some days 
two, some days six became christians. Though con- 
servatives held the work Lack, Pastor Gale's enthu- 
siasm and labors I cannot forget. The workers' meet- 
ings, the conferences with pastors and Sunday School 
teachers, were helpful and of great benefit, I am con- 
vinced. And some of the conversions as I reread my 
note books were remarkable. 

At St. Cloud we found intellectual culture on 
every hand. Rationalism, Swedenborgianism and sim- 
ilar growths had sapped the vitality of many church 
members. The Baptists were just re-starting a small 
church. Few in number, they were helpful in the 
work. I recall intense cold weather. The choir was 
very classic, and warned me against calling for Moody 
hymns, or singing Hold the Fort." Work deepened 
slowly and then one evening carefully, calmly, sweetly 

269 



A PILGRIM MAID 

among eleven converts, came forward lovely M , 

M expecting to go on the operatic stage, but, now 

devoting her gifts and graces to the new Master. Miss 
Holloway addressed the St. Cloud children's meetings 
with grand effect. The congregational church was the 
coldest, proudest, most self-satisfied, I had yet met. 
Young women in the church, not previously converted, 
now came with radiant faces to say "I have seen the 
Lord." 

Life seemed worth the living. But the aristoc- 
racy of education is as trying as that of gold. The 
Congregational pastor played cards and attended home 
dances "to win some people to the church." Long, 
tender, talks with him resulted in a new life for the 
kind, greathearted brother! He had left Andover, he 
told me, almost a Unitarian. A Christian woman 
kept him from giving up his belief in a divine Christ. 
I rejoiced to hear years afterward of his humble testi- 
mony to the work wrought in his heart during our stay 
in his home at St. Cloud. 

At Sank Rapids we spent a few days helping in 
church and homes as best we could. Low standards 
of religious life, a dismal, bleak church building, a 
pastor smoking, and formal and cold spiritually all on 
the one hand, with the thermometer at 42 degrees be- 
low zero, and during our last week the dirtiest board- 
ing place I have ever had. But on the other hand, 
the surety that christians were aroused to penitence, 
that a few sinners were converted; that I was helped 
tenderly to break the tidings of her son's sudden death 
in the far west, to an aged saint, and that influence 
for our Lord in christian living were left behind us, 

270 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

and we, kept almost miraculously from sickness. O, 
the mercies! 

Blocked in by snow storms, we reached Minneap- 
olis late to rest a few days by invitation, at Baptist 
Sunday School Supt. Weld's and finally visit the Falls 
of Minnehaha. 

We each had one quite serious attack of illness 
during this winter. Could we rest? Daily we re- 
ceived callers, — callers, — callers seeking aid. Let- 
ters, — letters, — came, to answer with instruction, sug- 
gestion, and replies to converts of previous fields. 

We visited Wabasha's Congregational church in a 
small town; dead religiously; a few christians to help 
us; the pastor genial, socially, fond of music, a fine 
singer, but 0, how lazy! 

Home to May wood we went, earlier this year by 
two months than usual. So we finished the hard win- 
ter of 1882 and 1883. I spent a summer as those 
hitherto named, studying, writing, doing too much ad- 
dressing and bearing heart burdens not to be named. 

This summer however I did have sense enough to 
run up to Mackniac on a boat trip for ten days' recre- 
ation with my highly esteemed friend, Mrs. C. C. 
Varney of Chicago, one of the best traveling com- 
panions and inspiration-bringing friends I have had. 

In October I held a w r eek's meeting with the stu- 
dents at Wheaton College. Roomed with the lady 
principal, Miss A. J. Carothers, later the wife of Pres. 
C. A. Blanchard, a young woman of most unselfish 
character, a close friend and faithful follower of Christ. 

Her influence rebuked as surely as it comforted 
me. I came away more humble, reverent and unself- 

271 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ish for the few days with one whose entire life was one 
of self sacrifice and to whose memory I desire to pay 
this little word of tribute. 

The last of October we started for Fremont, Neb- 
raska, to attend, as invited, the Baptist State Conven- 
tion, where Mrs. S. A. Howe and Mrs. A. M. Bacon 
were presenting the missionary work of the Woman's 
Board, with whom we had sweet fellowship. I spoke 
at the woman's meeting and preached on a Sabbath 
evening afterwards, making appointments for revival 
work with pastors. 

The Chicago brethern, representing different 
branches of convention work, were cool, cautious, and 
one, at least, rude in regard to the state's endorsing 
the labors of one called by this prominent Chicago re- 
presentative of foreign missionary enterprise, "A mere 
chit of a girl." 

Then commenced meetings at Edgar where pastor 
Hall once of Vermont had, through my introduction, 
been called to the pastorate. It was a very gradual 
work at Edgar, but the day came when a good mem- 
ber of the leading business men with joy accepted and 
confessed the Savior. 

There we found our new friends who entertained 
me so many times afterwards, The Saxton family — 

Capt. S being a leading merchant, and many years 

the efficient, faithful treasurer of the Nebraska State 
Convention. The family altar in that christian home 
will not be forgotten, nor the influence of their lives 
die out. 

Here we were visited by pastors from Fairfield 
who urged us to go to their village for a union meet- 

272 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

ing. "There are a few unchurched Baptists who will 
be glad to see you and who will work with us." said 
the good brethern. All we could offer them was the 
promise of nine days in which we had planned to rest. 

They accepted, and on to Fairfield we hastened. 
From the opening meeting the blessing of God was 
with us. Many who at first assured us they could not 
publicly speak of Christ and the love they felt for sin- 
ners around them, were soon testifying and laboring 
with new songs on their lips and greater joy in their 
hearts. Among these were the organist, and Miss 
Jennie Howe of Fairport, N. Y. who made her home 
with her beautiful sister, Mrs. Wilcox. 

Strong Baptists east, these sisters had no church 
home here. One evening in the after meeting a man 
over six feet tall and sun browned, with a farmer's 
toil, said to me, "Of what denomination are you?" 
"That is not for me to say just here," I replied. 
"Well, you need not," he said. "Fifteen years ago I 
was a Baptist, and I haven't heard a Baptist sermon 
till tonight since I came out here." "Perhaps you are 
partly to blame for that," I said, and later I found 
fifteen people who had once been Baptists. 0! such 
meetings! Glory shone around \ 

About forty united with each of the three churches 
of Fairfield after our meetings closed; Rev. I. D. New- 
ell from his farm house, nine miles away, later bap- 
tised in the Blue River a number of Baptist converts, 
and within a year about twelve led by State Mission- 
ary J. W. Osborn, organized a Baptist church which 
erected by the aid of the state board a neat, prettily 
decorated and well seated structure, and were supplied 

273 



A PILGRIM MAID 

by Bro. Newell for some weeks. 

The little brown church was dedicated free of 
debt. The money given by the new members, all 
but a few, untrained and recently converted young 
people, was generously out of proportion to their 
means, but a happier, more useful little band of dis- 
ciples I have never met. 

There was a strong Campbellite church a half 
block away, with many wealthy farmer members, and 
a tiny but growing college of that denomination with 
its worthy professors, on the hill, and in this lovely 
prairie town, where shrubbery and fruits and neat 
homes were greatly in evidence, I met some peculiarly 
happy experiences to be named farther on. 

After Fairfield followed meetings at Beatrice and 
Tecumseh and Juniata, — home of our "cyclone of Jap- 
an," Annie S. Buzzell; then at Ashland, and other 
places full of hard work; with the reconciling of fueds, 
the winning of souls, the sharing of labors of godly 
self denying pastors and their wives and households, 
who were laying the foundations of strong churches 
in the state so dear to me because of a brother's grave, 
a state which at that time had the smallest per cent 
of illiteracy of any in the Union. 

And so passed the winter of 1883-4. (X its 
journeyings, its privations, its peculiar trials and 
mighty joys you must read between the lines. If peo- 
ple feared or hoped we were making money let me 
cite our financial standing after being paid for one of 
the most prosperous meetings in every sense. Hav- 
ing met our traveling expenses from the last field and 
paid my assistant, I had just $28.13, having held 

274 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE WEST 

thirty-one public services and suffered many privations 
as to places of abode, in this field. 

The following is but a specimen of the kind words 
of pastors written after meetings closed: 

"I have waited to see what would be the outcome 
to us as a church. The results are truly gratifying. 
The labors of Miss Townsley, assisted by Miss Hollo- 
way, have been wonderfully blessed to us. The work 
was of such a kind as to leave bshind no injurious re- 
action. It moved on so quietly and deeply that we 
did not begin to realize at the time its magnitude, and 
spirit of zeal and devotion was so deep that we are not 
surprised that it still moves on with a great deal of 
momentum." 

Immediately after the previously mentioned re- 
vival services in Fairfield, this little church of men 
and women mostly from New York State and Chicago, 
was ready for a leader and courteously invited me to 
come to their aid, as their first pastor. 

Knowing the time had come for a change of work, 
in some degree, I followed the advice of my friends 
and came to Fairfield, Jan. 1st, 1885. I think my 
fellow toilers there will testify that I gave myself un- 
to them as unto the Lord. My deacons were from Wy- 
oming County, New York, and Lockport and Fairport, 
and my clerk from New York; my treasurer from Bal- 
timore, Maryland; my choir leader and organist from 
Lockport, New York; my best Sunday School teachers 
from Chicago and the East. The friends and relatives 
of Mrs. Wilcox and Miss Howe from Fairport, New 
York sent us our first silver communion service, and 
our few ladies worked and prayed as few — yes, many 
new church founders on the western prairie do. 

275 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 
Woman's Ordination — How and Why 

"She walks erect through dangers manifold, 
While many sink and fall on either hand, 
She heeds not summer's heat or winter's cold, 
For both are subject to the King's command, 
She need not be afraid of anything, 
Because she is the daughter of a King." 

My ordination was on this wise: After twelve 
years of daily preaching far and near as hitherto re- 
lated, I worked at Fairfield as pastor of the new little 
Baptist church three months, sending for some State 
official, or other brother to come for the communion 
Sabbath, while I went away. It was therefore often 
necessary to postpone the sacred service; for I was a 
stickler for church order, though men from our semi- 
naries unordained , followed me, in time, who brought 
confusion and discord into the church by administer- 
ing ordinances (and one would have performed a mar- 
riage ceremony) without proper ecclesiastical sanction. 
It was not always easy to hire ordained supplies, for 
my people and I were not willing to let every brother 
who offered to, preach in our intelligent community, 
as some evinced no call to such public teaching. My 
young people, perforce went to stranger pastors to be 
wed. Yet the ordination council was not urged by 
myself, but my church and other adjacent Baptist 

276 




c 



w 

— 

< "S 



— 

— £ 



£ 









WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

bodies. I warned them of the commotion they would 
arouse thereby, of the prejudice of thousands, of the 
honest convictions of many opposed to such a course, 
which I have ever respected. 

"They can but examine you at least/' said old 
Deacon Spencer; " Yes," said a reverend brother in my 
church, who had come to us from another body of 
christians, "We are not asking you for your ordination 
now, but for your acceptance of a council and exami- 
nation." At last I yielded to those who said, "You 
do all the drudgery of a pastor's office, and the en- 
dorsement of the same should be open, not tacit, and 
as public as your service." To all which I at length 
consented, after much prayer and study and large 
correspondence with clergymen who knew me well. 
Their letters I will not quote here. Some still high in 
honor in our denomination wrote to the State leaders, 
"In answer to your questions as to the right of Miss 
Townsley to ordination, I freely assert that after long 
acquaintance with our sister and full knowledge of her 
work, I consider her mentally and spiritually fitted for 
the pastorate, but I myself should not dare in face of 
existing custom and prejudice, to be on the council." 

The council of fourteen Baptist churches, came, 
gave me a close examination of three hours, retired, 
prayed, talked, assured one another that they were in 
for honor, logic, and straightforward action, the only 
real issue being, "In his gifts and callings, is the Holy 
Ghost limited by the fact of sex?" 

Their statement in the following article sent to 
Baptist papers by the clerk is simple and direct. 

"It may not be known to some that one of our 
277 



A PILGRIM MAID 

very efficient ministers is a lady, Miss Frances Towns - 
ley, who for fifteen years has been a successful evan- 
gelist. She was called a few months since to the pas- 
torate at Fairfield, Nebraska — and after three months 
the church asked for her ordination by calling for a 
council in the usual way, which met, and after a very 
interesting recital of her christian experience, call to 
the ministry, and views of Bible doctrine, she was 
dully set apart by ordination. The council was not 
unmindful that this would be regarded as a new de- 
parture by many other denominations as well as mem- 
bers of our own. The council had been called by a un- 
animous vote of the church. Then came before it this 
cultured, Christian lady with an experience that made 
all feel that she had seen Jesus. Then came her call to 
the ministry, which was so clearly defined and beauti- 
fully and simply explained, as to make every minister 
present feel that she, too, had been led over his own 
pathway. Her views of Bible doctrine were so clearly 
defined, and orthodox, exhibited such an amount of 
careful reading and study, as would have done honor 
to any graduate of our theological schools. 

The council retired, and the three points named 
were taken up. Her Christian experience, her call to 
the ministry, her views of Bible doctrine; on no one of 
these could there be a shadow of a doubt. But it is a 
woman seeking ordination. Here is the objection; the 
only objection. Her sisters have won distinction in 
the legal profession, in medical practice, in leadership 
in temperance reform, in the benevolent work of the 
Church. Here is evidently one called of God to the 
public ministry of the Word, and has demonstrated 

278 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

the fact by years of successful ministerial work. The 
vote to ordain was unanimous/ 7 

Over against this let me insert the misleading- 
words taken verbatim from the leading Eastern Baptist 
paper, one of wide circulation; 

"The council is understood to give for their reason 
for their action, that they were convinced that Miss 
Townsley had a deep conviction of having been called 
of God to preach the gospel." Well did this editorial 
add, "This is a feeble justification." Certainly! I 
fully agree with the writer that "a conviction though 
genuine may be a mistaken one." But not a report 
sent out by that council ever hinted at such a "rea- 
son." An ordination council is called partly to decide 
whether the conviction of the candidate is "a genuine" 
or "a mistaken" one. They referred to my convic- 
tion, but stated as a reason for voting to ordain, their 
own united, unanimous conviction. 

False representations of the affair and its "rea- 
sons" were made current for a time. You can imagine 
how the concluding words of this editorial impressed 
my eastern people! 

"The ordination of Miss Townsley will be referred 
to hereafter as a precedent. It is therefore all import- 
ant that the act of this small council in a remote frontier 
town, may not seem to receive the silent approval of 
the denomination." 

"This small council" was larger than many I have 
attended since. My church clerk sent a courteous 
note to the quoted Baptist paper stating that our 
"frontier" was several hundred miles west of us, and 
enclosed a list of our church officers and the churches 

279 



A PILGRIM MAID 

they left behind them, who all, like the pastor, hailed 
from "way down east." (Above corrections were 
never acknowledged or referred to, much less printed 
by said paper.) 

The only thing suggestive of real "intelligent'! 
controversy on the question in that long editorial was 
the following: — 

"We shall not disparage the good sense of our 
readers by entering on any argument to show that the 
ordination of women is unscriptural. Let any one 
read the Epistles to Timothy and Titus, and decide 
for himself whether the remotest possibility that a 
woman could be proposed for the office of bishop so 
much as suggested itself to the inspired Apostle. On 
the interpretation of these Epistles the Christian 
church has been agreed, in spite of its great differ- 
ences. " 

As to Paul's words to Titus and Timothy, cer- 
tainly Paul never thought of a heathen woman for 
head of a first century church. "For ages, intelligent 
christians have been agreed" on that! Also I sincere- 
ly doubt if Paul could have thought of the misinter- 
pretation and occasional mistranslation and careless 
rendering of some passages King James' version offers 
us on the question of woman's place in church work. 

For example: Why should a word translated 
"soberminded" when applied to a man, be translated 
"shamefaced" when referring to a woman, or "grave" 
referring to men, and deacons, become when referring 
to their wives, a word implying weakness or shame? 

Some day perhaps a woman or two of great schol- 
arship in Greek and Hebrew (there are such) will be 

280 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

placed upon the revision board and some of blessed, 
inspired Paul's messages to Greek women in Titus and 
Timothy's ancient fields, as in Corinth, a heathen city 
with a band of new disciples just gathered into a chris- 
tian church, will be more correctly translated, and 
more divinely interpreted. 

Not one woman in thousands can read in some 
heathen lands of to-day. In Paul's day, not a woman 
convert from heathendom could "teach" or lead in 
the thought and application of the gospel messages 
with authority. She simply could not if she would ! 

The principles of church doctrine and practice 
abide through the ages, or I should not have refused 
the tempting offers of pastoral work in other denom- 
inations than my own, where, unhampered and un- 
criticised, I might have found employ. 

I refused before and after the ordination to w 7 rite 
or speak in defense of my position or that of the coun- 
cil, or to refute the (in some cases, especially from the 
South) indecent slurs on my possible past. ' : One 
stroke of your pen would settle this or that poor logic, 
and the genuine satire you could so easily and rightfully 
use, with severe explanations, ought to be employed 
in this matter," cried grey-haired men of my flock. 

"No," I answered, "My preceding and following 
years must be my best defense. I am set only for the 
defense of the gospel." 

It is no pleasure to me to go over these matters 
to-day. But I am writing my life story, which would 
not be complete without the truthful telling of these 
incidents. 

In view of these plain, simple statements of the 
281 



A PILGRIM MAID 

council, why should the Eastern editorial say, 

"Miss Townsley, it is said, has been laboring as 
an evangelist for years; she has been able to preach 
the gospel freely and with some degree of success with- 
out ordination. She might have continued to do so. 
It by no means follows that her conviction of duty to 
preach was any sort of title to be ordained to the min- 
istry." 

Certainly not. The council was called to consider 
my fitness for the pastoral office I was holding. Had 
this large body decided negatively it would have been 
my duty to resign my charge and return — to evangel- 
istic work! How many calls I should have had! 
Even in New York! A woman who failed in examina- 
tion! 

And now right after the severe press comment, 
the National Baptist (then published in Philadelphia) 
sent me a package of their papers, one front page filled 
with "The story of Miss Townsley," written by Col. L. 
K. Fuller of the Estey Organ Co., "endorsed by his 
father-in-law, Jacob Estey." This article contained a 
few errors, and some praise I have since tried to de- 
serve I am sure it was too strong a dose, as, for ex- 
ample, when after rehearsing my New England work 
and my visits in his home, Mr. Fuller wrote: "Time 
has developed no point of weakness in her achieve- 
ment. She has strong common sense, is a remarkable 
preacher, and peculiarly adopted to her work. A 
woman of remarkable gift of language and much 
eloquence. There is not a pulpit in the land she 
would not grace. She is masculine in nothing except 
it be rare ability." (How that last remark would 

282 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

strike such orators as Mary A. Livermore, Frances E. 
Willard, Rev. Anna Shaw, and Miss Marie Brehm. 
Not to mention many more!) However I know my 
brother wrote in the rush and confusion of a large 
and varied business and his heart was sincere. The 
following lines from that article I strive and pray to 
make true from day to day. 

"She is a modest, womanly woman, — honest, true 
as the needle to the pole, and will do only the things 
that make for peace. She will never aspire to wear a 
<?oat, or usurp the functions of the male sex. She is a 
woman that women will love and men respect; — there 
are no queer things or eccentricities about her." "She 
is a brilliant woman of rare gifts who does not seek 
notoriety and only desires to do her Master's will." 

Yes, I was grateful for this kind, though extreme 
word of praise, as I continued my pastoral work; as 
you have read, I had served for months at a time as 
pastoral supply in cities and villages of New York and 
Illinois, and after several years of very heavy work at 
Fairfield, I resumed evangelistic labors, visiting briefly 
Iowa, Illinois, Vermont and Rhode Island. 

May I tell you the great mistake of that time in 
my life, as I feel it today? The failure to take entire 
rest at that date instead of a change of work for recup- 
eration. Even had I accepted Fairfield's urgent plea 
that I remain with an increase of salary and three 
months vacation if needed, I might not have become 
so frail. But the call of earnest pastors for evangelis- 
tic help naturally appealed to me, and still as ever 
added to the severe labors and long journeys, were the 
letters, letters, in reply to requests for help to lead 

283 



A PILGRIM MAID 

their first social meeting, from converted laymen and 
lay women; from girls who sought advice on the ques- 
tions or love and marriage, (and who would generally 
do as they pleased anyway) ; from women whose hearts 
ached for sympathy and thought I could send some; 
from boys wishing letters of introduction to school 
principals or college presidents; from children who 
wished I would send them a piece to recite, and if I 
had time would I write one just for them; — yes it was 
all blessed and I think appreciated toil in His Name, 
and I am doing these extras still; but as I look back 
from the vantage ground of to-day, I see I should 
have dropped all work for a year, avoided the long and 
expensive journeys taken, and after bestowing my 
Lord's tenth and more, I should have scrupulously 
laid by a small portion of my salary every month, 
whatever that salary might have been. 

"The man is greater than his work, " says a writer. 
I would seek to develop in myself Christ-like character 
to a larger degree, if it cost me every close friend I 
had! 

How many pastors hinder their usefulness and 
lower their dignity by trying to right every little 
wrong matter that they are told about in the parish? 
And on the other hand how easy to ignore the duty of 
straight-forward, honest dealing with sin in any fam- 
ily, even that of the sister who always entertains the 
State Board members on their money-seeking errands, 
or as a pastor once said to me, "Makes the best biscuit 
of anybody in this town." 

Too weak to carry out my plans of work as an 
evangelist, as above stated, I dropped into the tender 

284 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

care of Dr. Julia Holmes Smith, of Chicago, who for ten 
years cared for me kindly, solicitously and generously. 
During those years I kept on at work, serving as pastor 
two years at Ashland, Nebraska; speaking for foreign 
and home mission societies, temperance organizations, 
and Sunday School conventions; helping for months in 
the church at David City, not in Judea, but precious 
Nebraska; then I tried gardening one summer, which 
did not seem to be apian of God's appproval, for a hot 
sand storm destroyed every green thing on my rented 
five acres in a few hours. 

During this struggle for health there came to me 
this note from Oak Park, Chicago, Baptists, which to- 
day assures me that though we make mistakes of 
judgment, if our motive is genuine, God honors that 
and cares for His own. It is only sin, black, dreadful 
unnecessary sin that hides His Face from us, and 
darkens our pathway and makes us afraid. 

Oak Park, 111., May 25th, 1889. 
My Dear Miss Townsley, — 

Your Baptist friends in Oak Park have learned 
with deep regret that you are laid aside for a time, and 
wishing to give you some expression of their loving re- 
gard and deep sympathy with you in this your time 
of trial, have made up a little purse which we enclose 
to you. All we ask is that you accept it with our best 
wishes and use it in giving yourself that complete rest 
your physician has ordered. I wish you could know- 
how cheerfully and gladly this has been done, each es- 
teeming it a privilege to add his or her mite. The 
Armor Bearers, our dear Christian boys, some of them 
your sons in Christ, brought their offering also. I 

285 



A PILGRIM MAID 

know it will give you joy to have this assurance of 
their loving remembrance. 

You have a very warm place in our hearts and 

our earnest prayers are that the dear Lord who knows 

will grant you a speedy recovery, and that he will 

make his face to shine upon you and give you peace. 

Your sister in Christ, 

Lydia M. Earl. 

Dear Mrs. Earl! Now at rest, she knows how 
grateful I am! 

Following the gift came a letter "from Maywood 
friends, " written by Mrs. Sybil G. Akin, enclosing- 
sixty dollars to help me rest. And lo! in addition 
came a railroad pass from W. H. Holcomb, on the 
Union Pacific, to the Rocky Mountains and back, for 
myself and a needed lady companion. I felt it right 
to go. 

Choosing my home-sister, Miss Starritt, for my 
companion, I was disappointed that her bodily weak- 
nesses forbade the trip to so high an altitude; so I 
next invited another lady in my church, a tired dry- 
goods clerk, a faithful daughter to her aged parents, 
who needed a trip and rest. 

On our return I was not much better, but my 
living must come, and it is a bitter hour when one 
called to the Gospel ministry feels the need to stifle 
the cry for the bread that perisheth, while feeding soul 
and spirit on the bread that endureth unto life ever- 
lasting. 

One year of being taken care of would have meant 
so much to me then! How often I have cried, "0, for 
mother! 0, for a brother's home to turn to, and his 

286 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

children to comfort and inspire me." 

During my pastorate at Fairfield, God had given 
me the sweetest, homiest home I've ever had since I 
was a girl. Dear Mrs. Starritt, a charter member of 
our church, had spent her youthful years in Nova 
Scotia, was baptized in the Bay of Fundy, came to 
Canada, and then to Chicago, finally with her daughter 
to the West, and offered me a real home with them in 
this Nebraska village. 

The pleasant converse and delightful evenings in 
that home, its social cheer, its bounty and its helpful- 
ness did much to make successful my labors, and in- 
crease my influence among the people w r ho responded 
to teaching readily. I received seventy-six into the 
dear Fairfield church between January, 1885, and 
November, 1887. This to a pastor on the prairie, 
with scattered homes and often snow-drifts, and winds 
to contend with, and church letters to search for, which 
had been dropped in the Mississippi or Missouri in 
crossing into the state from eastern homes, means 
much more than careless reading implies. 

While pastor at Fairfield, I labored in forty towns 
and villages of the state in church work and temper- 
ance reform, for the Prohibition Campaign of Nebraska 
was "on," and such women as the state had, such well 
informed men and devoted saints, and cultured work- 
ers made effort a joy, and toil a success. Our Baptist 
Dr. and Mrs. E. T. Cassell, were among these. They 
since wrote that now famous hymn, "I'm on the busi- 
ness of the King," — words and music, and earlier com- 
piled "The Nebraska White Ribbon Hymnal." Such 
appreciation, courtesy and love as Nebraska gave me 

287 



A PILGRIM MAID 

cannot be told! 

my dear western co-workers! If I gave them 
prayer, toil and inspiration, I could not help it. There 
I met Miss Mary Ripley, for forty years of Buffalo's 
educational circles, who spent her very last days in 
our western work. I must write a word or two as to 
our last two chats together. One was at the home of 
Mrs. C. L. Jones at Hastings. 

1 had been with her at a W. C. T. U. Convention 
and had given a Bible Reading on "Called — to What?", 
during which Miss Ripley sat with that clean, sweet 
face of hers, bathed in tears. At evening, before we 
separated for the night, she said to me, "Miss Townsley , 
I want to say something more. I came out here to 
Nebraska. from surroundings of culture and from many 
privileges which some of our Nebraska workers never 
had. Now you know I am not given to gush or cant. 
I've never thought I was particularly orthodox. But 
as I've heard these farmer's wives and daughters from 
homes of toil and privation, pray as I could not, I've 
felt that they had a relation to God which I could not 
claim. They have impressed me with a sense of per- 
sonal need, and there was such a thing as personal 
relation to our God," (and then how humbly and 
earnestly and hopefully the dear one added this) "I've 
come clear out here to begin to learn that God person- 
ally loves and cares for ME," 

Then I tried to tell her of the very foundation of 
a truly "orthodox" hope and joy, in coming to the 
Father through his divine and human Son. 

One day after this I met her hurriedly five min- 
utes on the cars, and thanked her for writing that 

288 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

heart-cry to Christ, her poem "For Thee," published 
in the UNION WORKER. "Did you enjoy it? did 
you see into it?" she cried. It is in my Bible. I shall 
keep it always. The heart cry is satisfied! Her soul's 
chalice is at last filled! She is with the Lord. 

Miss Willard and Miss Gordon came to Nebraska 
to help our State, and such State Conventions, I have 
seen nowhere since! Our State executive board of the 
W. C. T. U. was a grand force of noble, gifted women. 
Dear Baptist Mary A. Hitchcock, whose woman's long- 
ing for her own home led to her tragic and awful 
death; Mrs. Alma G. Fitch, wife of Dr. H. P. Fitch; 
Mrs. C. M. Woodward of Lincoln, a lawyer of note, 
and others just as earnest and wise and loyal were on 
that board. 

1 have long years w 7 orn a beautiful amethyst ring. 
To the above State board I presented this precious 
souvenir to be sold for Prohibition funds, in the fol- 
lowing note: 

"Dear Sisters of the Executive Committee: — I 
have in my possession a ring, made from the gold 
watch which my father gave my mother at the time 
of their marriage, long years ago. 

It is pure gold, set with a very clear, choice ame- 
thyst. It is as sacred a relic as I possess. My loved 
ones in family relationship are every one over the 
River waiting for me. For my precious mother's sake, 
that she, though dead, may yet speak for the cause so 
dear to true womanhood, I present this ring to the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union of Nebraska for 
this campaign, and beg its acceptance in her name." 

Frances E. Townsley. 
289 



A PILGRIM MAID 

The response reads as follows: 

"Resolved, That in the gift of this valuable ring 
from Rev. Frances E. Townsley to be sold for the 
campaign fund of the W. C. T. U. we deeply appre- 
ciate the devotion to our cause which this most touch- 
ing gift expresses, and pray that in thought of the 
benefit that shall come to the work our dear sister 
may be fully compensated for her great sacrifice. " 

Miss Willard presented the ring to the convention 
as only she could, in words of appreciation for the de- 
parted parents who had " given such a daughter to 
humanity." How that noble friend helped me! Her 
words of personal encouragement and regard still lin- 
ger in my grateful heart. 

The ring was sold several times and later return- 
ed to me by the State; and I wear it still. 

If I ever learned how to make collection speeches 
it was in those crowed, busy days. Meanwhile in my 
home study I was writing a series of " Memories and 
Hopes" for one Baptist paper, and "Sermon Scraps" 
for another, and items for the Nebraska Union Work- 
er, and occasionally the Union Signal, as recreation 
from strictly pastoral work. 

It was not work that hurt me. It was worry, or 
rather, perplexity over financial needs caused by heavy 
traveling expenses, board bills for busy years, and gifts 
beyond what God has prospered me, yet his providen- 
tial care and provision, the latter through many saints, 
has often seemed miraculous. Praise His Name. 

One summer I spent on the plains of South Da- 
kota with my friend Mrs. Varney (of the Macinac trip), 
and her children. The Standard printed this letter 

290 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

concerning my stay there five months in search of re- 
cuperation. 

"THE LAND OF THE DAKOTAS." 

"Your article in the number of July 3d emboldens 
me to tell you of my first summer of real rest for several 
years. I did not go to Rome and the Vatican, or to 
Venice, with its gondolas and moonlight, or to Switz- 
erland and her Alps of famous story. I just let Dr. 
Gordon and wife, and my old towheaded playmates, 
O. P. Gifford and his wife, go over the wild and briny 
deep, while, yielding to force of circumstances, I came 
to the land of promise, Dakotah, more suddenly and 
less poetically, Dakota. 

The Dr. (M. D., of course,) said;— "Off with you 
where you will find no conventions, see no white neck- 
ties, and hear no gospel hymns save what you sing 
yourself !" He even bade me leave all my religion at 
home. If it had been the kind I could put on and 
take off, it would have been wise to leave it far behind 
me. 1 joined Mrs. Varney and her family, who were 
seeking "green fields and pastures new/' and the lady 
aforesaid, like myself, had a head "on one side" of 
which, like the man's in the Hoosier School-Master, 
was "tater;" and we left Chicago, and into the land of 
future fortunes, whose trees (when they grow) shall 
blossom with apples of gold, and pears, not to say 
peaches, of silver — into that land of poetry and Long- 
fellow, "The land of Dakotahs," did we come. 

We have named my friend's claim, "Mizpah." 
We have a tent for Morganatus and the trunks and 
two house rooms in a shanty which my friend built, 
and here we live. We are twenty-seven miles from 

291 



A PILGRIM MAID 

the railroad and Blunt, seven and a half miles from 
Gettysburg and the Post Office, and if we don't get 
well it won't be the fault of meetings or extreme men- 
tal effort on our part. 

The air is very dry and bracing. Though the 
sun is hot, the heat does not wilt one as in Illinois, 
as I cannot say that we have suffered with the heat 
once. The prairies are very billowy and green, abound- 
ing in wild roses, prairie pointers, pink, scarlet and 
yellow cactus blossoms, and gophers. The latter are 
very tame, sitting up like prairie dogs, to gaze at one 
till he nears them, when they cooly skip to their holes 
to report the new comers. The soil is full of lime- 
stone. It holds moisture strangely. Are we in the 
rainbelt? O, no! certainly not! Haven't I been turn- 
ed out of my cot on an average of once a week in the 
dead of night to find dish pans and old tin cans in 
which to catch the anything but gentle raindrops? Tell 
me I am not in the rainbelt? Why, when Dame Na- 
ture puts on that belt it gleams with white lightnings, 
inlaid with the blackest cloud-mosiacs I ever saw! 

The railroad (prospective) from Redfield to the 
Missouri River is to go right by our door, I doubt 
not, and as I planted my melon and cucumber seeds, 
I gloried! Even now as I hoe my sweet corn and po- 
tatoes which Penelope magnanimously allows me to 
raise on her claim, I can see this piece of preemption 
selling for twenty-five dollars an acre; and over the 
rise, a town of fair proportions and a large Baptist 
church with a bell to it, shines before my mental vision. 

That reminds me, water can be obtained with 
comparatively little digging. Some find it at twenty - 

292 



WOMAN'S ORDINATION— HOW AND WHY 

five feet; some at fifty; others go as deep as eighty 
feet before they are rewarded. I can only praise this 
part of Potter County. Gettysburg is not one year 
old, Blunt is two years of age. But don't judge Da- 
kota by its new, raw, dry, homesick looking towns. 
Come out to the broad, green prairies, stretching on 
with their suggestions of the infinite, if you would see 
its glory and prophesy its doubtless wonderful future. 

I am here for absolute rest till fall; I have not 
been permitted to attend church, more properly " meet- 
ing." At Gettysburg a religious service is held once a 
week in the hotel office. A good, faithful brother 
drives by our door once a week to lead at Davidson, a 
town eight miles away, a meeting of thirty to forty 
souls. 

By your paper I see notices of Baptist work in 
Eastern and Southern Dakota. But everything is so 
young and unsettled here, as yet, that weaker vessels 
like myself, while realizing the need of workers, can 
only pray, "O, Lord send forth laborers into Thy vine- 
yard; earnest souls who love the Lord first and their 
fellowmen next, and make us all well to give Thee 
service!" 

In the near future I hope our own brethren may 
take this goodly land for the Master. To the many 
with whom I have labored in the past years of revival 
work, I send a convalescent's greeting: 

F. E. Townsley. 
Gettysburg, South Dakota, July 14. 



293 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 
With One Who Did Not Die 

' ' We were talking about the King 
And our Elder Brother, 
As we were used often to speak 
One to another— 

The Lord standing quietly by 

In the shadows dim, 
Smiling, perhaps, in the dark to hear 

Our sweet, sweet talk of Him. 

And my friend rose up in the shadows 

And turned to me ; 
4 Be of good cheer/ I said, faintly, 

'For He calleth thee.' 

For I knew by His loving voice, 

His kingly word, 
The Veiled Guest in the starlight dim 

Was Christ the Lord!" 

August 7th, 1886, I received a telegram concern- 
ing my Miss Holloway, who had been slowly fading 
for weeks; "come at once/' I had an appointment to 
give a funeral oration at the going of General Grant, 
for the county, and had spent much time in its pre- 
paration. 

I knew afterwards that 10,000 peeple came to 
hear it that next day and to mourn for the departed 
hero. But my girl lay a-dying and I packed my 

294 



WITH ONE WHO DID NOT DIE 

satchel and rode sixteen miles to Harvard to catch an 
early train and reached the bedside of the sufferer as 
soon as Judge Ferris and other May wood friends could 
get me there. When she saw me she whispered, "I'm 
not a bit surprised/ ' She had been having a spasm 
every four minutes but lay quiet in my arms longer 
without a convulsion, and they now became less fre- 
quent till they ceased. 

Her sufferings which had been intense were the 
result of a hurt received in a railroad accident when we 
were returning home the previous year from some re- 
vival work. Her sinking spells now grew less frequent. 
The kind, learned doctors from Chicago said, "It is 
marvelous! We think your coming devinely ordered !" 
Still, she so longed to go. For many years she had 
felt willing and (as few really are who say it) desirous 
to depart. She knew we all thought her going, and 
so she made her plans to go, gave us rich counsel, and 
such communion with a soul lingering at the open 
portals of Glory I may not again know. I can not, 
would not write all that we two said. She not only 
was submissive to but full of joy in the Will Divine. 
But one great victory remained for her. It was the 
Doctor's opinion that if she recovered it would be to 
become an imbecile, on account of the dreadful brain 
trouble and head sufferings she had been undergoing. 
And though none of us breathed the fear in her hear- 
ing she came to suspect it. 

I watched alone with her the last night of my 
stay. (Our Nebraska So. Central Association was to 
meet with my church, hastening me home,) and in the 
grey dawn of that memorable morning she motioned 

295 



A PILGRIM MAID 

me to her side to say in whispers, "You all think me 
noble, resigned, trustful. But one horrible fear has 
been mine as I lay hanging between two worlds. I 
understand the Doctor's opinion. I want to go home 
to my Savior and my loved. To be willing to go was 
easy. To be willing to recover to be helpless, frail and 
demented, that is different. It means dependence on 
my brave sister and her husband who is sickly. (He 
left us soon after for Heaven). It means, 0, such a 
dreadful life! And I've thought it all out while you 
lay on that couch and thought me sleeping; and, dar- 
ling, — take my hands — I've given it all to God — and 
if he sees best for me to recover to such a life with all 
its meaning, / am willing! He has given me Victory! 
Now lift me up and pray!" And I did! I put my 
soul as well as hers into the Eternal Father's Will, and 
then I pleaded as only thus surrendered I could, that 
God would spare her this great and fiery and long af- 
fliction; for Jesus' sake, and I felt sure He would. 
Telling her this I left her. She blessed me and kissed 
me again and again, as if she would stamp her love on 
me for eternity. Her last request as ever since has 
been: "Ask for me that in any case I may simply and 
always honor our Lord." 

That this constant prayer of her life is daily and 
hourly granted all who live with and know her do 
testify. She slowly recovered and spent three summer 
months with me in the west. All the years, she has 
been helper, counselor, brains, heart, hands to her dear 
ones, and once at least every week has written 
me words of cheer and uplift. And if I neglect this 
little but mighty incident in it, I shall not be truly 

296 



WITH ONE WHO DID NOT DIE 

telling my life-story. 

Eloquent things have been written of Friendship. 
It is life's best wine. Its true meaning has been thus 
expressed : 

Friendship is love with the selfish element elimin- 
ated. It is an out-going and an on-going affection, 
wholly and inherently disinterested. Friendship is 
love apart from love's claim or love's craving. This 
is friendship at its truest and best; arid this it is that 
makes the best and truest friendship so rare, so diffi- 
cult of conception, so liable to misconception. No 
love in any relation of life can be at its best if the 
element of friendship be lacking. And no love can 
transcend a love that is pure friendship. That is not 
real friendship that ceases when it finds that no return 
of its affection is a possibility or a hope. The very 
joy of friendship is found in loving, not in being loved. 
Friendship always consists in loving rather than in be- 
ing loved." 



297 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
A Word to a Girl 

"Together greet life's solemn real. 

Together own one glad ideal. 
Together laugh, together ache. 

And think one thought, each other's sake, 
And hope one hope, in new world weather 

To still go on, and go together." 

How I love girls! Are they not the future 
home-makers, social leaders, church members of 
the world? A dear yoiing woman, a teacher, 
came to mo one day to ask a "bit of counsel." 
She was keeping company with a weak, shallow, 
ignorant follow whom she was trying to help up. 
So she road Shakespeare, Longfellow, Carlyle and 
other authors to him evenings, tried to instruct 
him as to the host in art and literature, but evi- 
dently had begun to see what the rest of us easily 
could, that the charm of her voice, the magnetic 
influence of her presence were all that kept him 
in her evening school, or patient under her sweet 
unselfish discipline. 

So. not knowing I knew what I have just 
written, she asked me how a girl might know, 
and decide whether to let a friendship ripen into 
a marrying love, or not. After much thought, I 
suggested to her three tests as advisable to use 

298 



A WORD TO A GIRL 

in such times of doubt. "Cora," I said, assum- 
ing she was asking for her own self, "carefully 
think over three tests. 

First — Is the young man in question the one 
you would be willing to sit oposite three times a 
day for say, forty years, at the dining table. 

Second — Is he likely to grow old beautifully? 
Of all things disagreeable, and unnecessary, to 
go through old age beside an untidy, cantanker- 
ous, un-Christian old man or woman, is the worst. 

Third — Are you proud or contended even, to 
think of that young man as the future father of 
your children, who will certainly impart to them 
some of his own tendencies and characteristics?" 

The young lady suddenly rose, saying, "I 
guess it is settled, now, thank you, dear Miss 
Townsley." 

Some time later I heard of her marriage to a 
well-known, scholarly, Christian man in the State, 
and be sure I drew^ a long breath of relief. 



299 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 
A Penitential Psalm 

"Air de Shepherd go out in the darkness, 

Where the night was col' an' bleak, 
An de lil' brack sheep He fin' it, 

An' lay it agains' His cheek, 
Air de hirelin' frown, 'O Shepherd, 

Don' bring dat sheep to me.' 
But de Shepherd He smile, and he hoi' it close, 

An' de lil' brack sheep— is me. 

An de lil' brack sheep— is me!" 

How far may a sheep of the Master's fold 
some times be permitted lo wander? With all 
self-abasement, let me tell yon. It may help some 
struggling soul who has let go the Hand Divine, 
and for the sake of another, gone wandering, care- 
lessly into the night. For no outer darkness can 
express the blackness and horror that gather 
around the head of one who has been in Christ's 
special care and used of Him, and has consented 
to disobey Him. 

At one period in my life, when busiest, my 
soul became clouded , possibly by dwelling on the 
increasing worldliness of the churches, the heart- 
lessness of so much called worship, and the far- 
cial side of what was termed religion, and the un- 

300 



A PENITENTIAL PSALM 

fitness of many pastors for the office of under- 
shepherd. To look away from Jesus Himself is to 
lose spiritual power. 

For some reason, with the dearest affections 
of my life God permitted peculiar temptations of 
strangest sort and most alluring facination to 
mar my peace and conquer in the unequal strife 
going on in my soul. This not only darkened my 
own life, but wronged my dearest and tenderest. 
Slowly but surely I learned that any wrong in- 
dulged, any doubtful course permitted, or dear 
temptation held close and cherished, no matter 
what the excuse or circumstances may be, is SIN. 

The hour came by God's grace when I rallied, 
faced my temptation and cried aloud for the once 
tempted Christ to deliver me; and where long be- 
fore I had found the anointing of the Holy Ghost, 
1 again saw my pitiful Lord offering the oil of 
His forgiving grace and empowering spirit. He 
only knows what the struggle meant or why it 
was permitted one so highly favored to so fail 
Him. 

There must have been lessons of humility for 
me to learn, and a fuller comprehension of His 
"unto the uttermost" salvation. 

It is a blessed thing to know a forsaken sin 
forgiven. It is a glorious thing to write Victory 
over your succeeding record. But the truly sin- 
cere soul w^ill never be able to erase the marks of 
the lash of Regret. He must in loneliest, holiest 
hours note the scars and feel the awful degrada- 

301 



A PILGRIM MAID 

tion of sin. No "modern theology," no later day 
"liberalism" will soothe his torture or calm his 
grief. No matter how little the sin in the eyes or 
ears of the careless, he who has seen the Lord 
will ever know what Paul meant in crying, "I am 
the chief of sinners." 

Only such will understand how, years after 
the record of the last page, in trying to help an- 
other, my soul poured forth to God its longings, 
as in a South Dakota farm house I wrote: 

MY PRAYER. 
A prayer I bring my lips ne'er framed before, 
One boon I crave, one blessed token more! 
Could this be granted, heaven were mine today, 
Hear me, O, God, I pray. 

The bitter, awful sin of years gone by, 
Undreamed of friends, unseen of curious eye, 
The sin that e'en my gladdest hour still haunts 
With cruel shame and taunts, 

Is long since pardoned; Lord, my tears were dried 
When at Thy cross, in penitence I cried. 
There, cleansing and forgiveness full and free 
Thou gavest unto me. 

Rut Thou who seest my grief sincere and true, 
Readest my soul's contrition through and through, 
Knowest the obedience of the busy years, 
Look on my falling tears! 

O understand, — Thou surely must, I know, 
Why I do plead, bowing alone and low 
That the sore memory, the stinging smart 
May leave my tortured heart. 

Give me the balm for these! The oil divine 
To soothe the anguish which is ever mine, 

302 



A PENITENTIAL PSALM 

In knowing what I was and failed to be, 
Savior, forgetting Thee! 

O, not enough is pardon for my past. 
Break, break the gloomy spell Regret hath cast 
Around my spirit! Bid me now 7 be free 
To smile, my Lord, for Thee. 

And though so long I have adored the grace 
That freely pardoned and gave love and place, 
Yet, for this added boon, surcease of shame, 
Henceforth I bless Thy name! 

Surely a tenderer pity for the tempted and 
erring became mine when again it w T as given me 
to turn to the precious Cross, and to the One 
who had given me largely of His grace hitherto, 
and there to find the renewed f orgivenness of His 
love, the re-infilling of His Divine Spirit and to be 
trusted as was Peter with a new T commission and 
a continued privilege to serve. 

If I w r ent on my way sadder, I went knowing. 
"I shall go softly all the years! 
Not as the prophet bathed in tears, 
And in deep bitterness of soul; 
For God hath healed my heavy dole. 
I shall go softly, having found 
The mighty arm that girds me round 
To be as sure as it is strong; 
I shall go softly through the throng, 
And w r ith compulsion calm and sweet 
Lead sinners to the Savior's feet." 
In my study has hung for years, a lovely 
panel of marbleized slate inscribed in the center 
with one word in gilt lettering — 
VICTORY! 
303 



CHAPTER XL. 
In Devious Paths 

''So I, who dare not lift mine eyes 
To places showing near the skies, 
T who might even dare refuse 
To follow Thee in rough ways, choose 
Wherever Thou canst use me bests. 
That is my place, my joy. my rest." 

When I left work in Nebraska I did not go 
into the insurance, real estate, mining or banking 
business. Had I been a properly ordained man I 
might. As it was I thought a slight change of 
environment would not be averse to God's will. 
So I accepted, at Miss Willard's earnest request, 
a place as National Evangelist on the list of such, 
connected with the National Woman's Christian 
Temperance Union, and spoke in Vermont, Mary- 
land, Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ohio especially 
on one phase of our evangelistic department, viz.: 
"Proportionate and systematic beneficence," a fa- 
vorite theme with me; and in some cities I spoke 
fourteen consecutive days on the above subject in 
union mass meetings sustained by the pastors 
with their hearty endorsement of my attempts to 
teach holier methods of raising money in church 

304 



IN DEVIOUS PATHS 

organizations than what Dr. A. J. Gordon well 
termed "The Modern Cookstove Apostasy." 

One of those pastors recently said to me, "I 
never can forget that week of w^ork in our city. It 
revolutionized the churches in regard to methods 
of money raising." Again for three months I 
labored in the Woman's Temple as an associate 
editor on the Union Signal staff, speaking often at 
the noon hour in Willard hall, where the services 
of prayer and teaching and personal work for the 
tempted and tried, the discouraged among men 
and women, led by the stalwart Mrs. M. B. Carse, 
ought never to be dropped, or ignored or forgot- 
ten, by our women. 

Every leader of the department work of the 
W. C. T. U. considers hers the most important 
one of all the forty-five. But had our women 
been as true to prayer and honor and the duty of 
the hour as many of this later day have not been, 
we might have been saved much of loss of dignity 
and power, have been more truly helpful to our 
surely martyred and heroic Miss Willard, and 
saved a disunion bitter and unholy and harmful 
as sin. 

One day I received a characteristic note from 
Frances Willard: 

St. Augustine, Fla., Feb. 6, 1896. 
My Dear Sister: 

I was so glad that you went to Vermont, for 
I believe you are a power wherever you go, and I 
wish to write with great earnestness to you 

305 



A PILGRIM MAID 

about what you niiglit do to help dear Mary 
Latkrap's "Michigan, my Michigan." It is drag- 
ging behind, and we cannot have that state of 
things. Our dear Mrs. Benjamin is troubled 
about it. I feel sure that you could do much to 
put it where it belongs, and it is a work that any 
woman might rejoice to do in the name of God 
and Home and Native Land. 

Pray, my dear sister, "give us a lift" and be- 
lieve me, 

Always yours with earnest good wishes, 

FKANCES E. WILLARD. 

P. S. — I am sending a copy of my "Do Every- 
thing" as a token of my affectionate regard." 

Into Michigan I soon found my way and 
spoke in my department work on Evangelism, 
How to Give, Mothers' meetings. (Did I not owe 
a great debt to my mother? and had I not had 
grand opportunities for home-observation? and 
must a woman be a mother in order to see and 
explain some needed truths of today?) Bible 
readings and addresses on prayer, the Holy 
Spirit, Sin and Salvation, were on the list, every- 
where I went. 

While in Michigan I was called to Vassar, a 
beautiful place, three hours on the railroad from 
Detroit, and twenty minutes from Saginaw. There 
I was glad to be aided and endorsed by Pastor E. 
A. Hoffman (Presbyterian), the author of so many 
choice hymns, and Pastor Mulholland (Methodist) 
and W. H. Betteys (Baptist), a hard worker and 

306 



IN DEVIOUS PATHS 

zealous in the cause of prohibition. 

There I met those members of the Almont, 
Michigan, Hough family, who were leaders in the 
comparatively new Baptist church of Vassar, and, 
later on, were instrumental in calling me to their 
pastorate. The church I found rent nearly in 
two by ill-feeling over the resignation of Rev. Mr. 
Bettys, and a field I certainly did not seek. At 
first I tried earnestly to secure a leader for this 
people by letter, and by personal appeal. Finally 
while planning to seek another pulpitless man for 
them, as I leaned back in the car and closed my 
eyes one day, praying, "Direct me, Lord, to the 
right one," a strange current of I know not what, 
rushed through my body and something said dis- 
tinctly, if sternly, "Why don't you go to Vassar 
yourself?" 

The only answ 7 er I could make was the one I 
had recently sent to the Vassar Church, "I don't 
want to," but I finally went on a contract "for 
two month," January and February of 1898. 

The financial methods were all to be revolu- 
tionized. There was some grumbling by a very 
few over my sermon on "The Church That Prays 
and the Church That Pays." There was, however, 
such genuine Christianity and true love for Christ 
among the members, as helped in adopting new 
methods, and seeking to forget the things that 
were behind and to prove to press forward to the 
things that were before, and we forged on for the 
two months at first agreed upon. 

307 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Answers to prayer (and such prayer meet- 
ings!) often seemed remarkable. At the first I 
found a number of Christian people outside the 
church, but serving it, one for long years its Sun- 
day School Superintendent, one a lawyer of re- 
pute, one a Sunday School teacher of ability, all 
held back from the open confession of Christ by 
different phases of the church controversy over 
the resigning pastor. For these, some of whom 
took part in the mid-week services helpfully, we 
felt led to particularly pray. I was rejoiced 
enough when they came, eight at one time, into 
the church fellowship and fuller service. And at 
the plea of the State Superintendent of Missions, 
C. E. Conley, and that of the church itself, I 
stayed. 

Then we began to pray for a harvest from 
our Sunday School and for young men, and we 
received what we sought. Then a class of middle- 
aged women-workers in the social and aid work 
of our sisters began to draw closer to God, and 
to work in the prayer meetings and then to desire 
to confess Christ in baptism, and a number of 
these "were obedient unto the faith," and early 
in my Vassar ministry I gave the hand of church 
fellowship one Sabbath morning to forty-five peo- 
ple, old and young, and from time to time there- 
after the others who on experience, or on their 
first confession of Christ came into our happy 
fellowship. These were precious days. All the 
while the lady pastor was trying to lead the peo- 

308 



IN DEVIOUS PATHS 

pie from mercenary spirituality -killing, over bur- 
dening methods of money-raising. And in a cer- 
tain number of months set apart sacredly for a 
test of my principles in the matter, all agreeing, 
we received a gift of $1,500, the payment of a 
$600 note considered as bad as outlawed, and in- 
creased our missionary offerings, and finished off 
the church basement, not before completed, with 
its dining hall, kitchen, parlor or prayer room. 
All this and much more required untenable tact, 
energy and effort. Some of the severest discipline 
I ever helped a church to achieve, long and fool- 
ishly deferred, received our attention, and people 
who had gone away taking no church letters, were 
looked after, dismissed, retained or excluded as 
prayerfully we decided must be the mind of the 
Spirit. 

A grateful impulse would lead me to name all 
the faithful souls in this field who were as loyal 
and self-denying as the pastor. But all the above 
matters to settle, with the reconciling of the two 
factions, required countless pastoral calls and 
visits, letters with their heavy postage bills, and 
such social, family and private praying as can be 
realized by only working pastors. If our Sunday 
School soon trebled in numbers; if the spirit of 
unity was marked; if additions were our frequent 
joy, it was all the inevitable result of obedience 
and prayer on the part of God's saints. 

During this busy life at Vassar I found time 
to compile some short talks on Jacob, given to 

309 



A PILGRIM MAID 

uiy B. Y. P. U. in a tiny volume entitled, "The 
Vision and the Vow," and also some Sabbath 
evening sermons on Moses in to a booklet entitled, 
"For My Laddie/' also my 1899 Frances-Towns- 
ley-Kalendar. 

The weddings (of all descriptions) were fre- 
quent, the funerals alas! averaging one year, 
three a week; for there, as elsew r here, outsiders 
and non-church goers in their bereavement cried, 
' k Go after the woman minister !" 

After four years of this strenuous service, I 
found myself one twilight hour unable to set my 
left foot on the floor, as it desired to play top, 
and spin around in a circle. A chill followed. The 
neighborly doctor came in and said, "You've 
walked yourself to death." 

Locomotor ataxia was not desirable, and soon 
with a parlor full of trustees and deacons (one- 
third the former being women, as in all my 
churches), amid other tears than my own, I re- 
gretfully resigned my pastorate at Vassar, as 
much for my people's sake as my own. 

It was now a strong, busy, liberal, prayerful 
body. I felt impressed with the necessity of a 
wise and spirit-filled successor, and assured my 
officers that I thought God would provide such an 
one within three weeks from my going, which He 
did, in Rev. W. N. Fletcher, w r ho for two years 
carried on a great work there, and to the deep 
regret of his people was urged by the state board 
to Northern Michigan's needy and under his lead- 

310 



IN DEVIOUS PATHS 

ership, responsive fields. Key. W. jST. Ferris later 
followed him iu a similar spirit of devotion at 
Vassar preceded by Dr. Waid of the Christian 
Herald of Michigan. 

Let me pause here to say as one learning 
through hard experience (fools will learn in no 
other school, it is said), let no Pastor feel called 
to put his salary very largely back into the church 
that has paid it to him. Let him put himself, his 
best, into his work, but his salary, large or small, 
— never ! By and bye he will sorely need it, unless 
he marries a rich wife, and he will have strange 
trouble if he does that. 

Let the average citizen count up his own fam- 
ily expenses for a year, and ask himself, "Is my 
pastor receiving a sum similar to my own, with 
his public duties and his railroad trips for the 
cause, his family to clothe, feed and educate?" 

When that pastor gets a few grey hairs, when 
the suspicion gets afloat that the minister is tired 
sometimes, the state, the church, offering no less 
heavy a field, or suggesting none at all for the 
faithful soul who could labor many years longer 
with a less exacting flock, rushes to the Divinity 
school for a fresh (sometimes very fresh) fledg- 
ling, boomed beyond truth's permission often by 
his professors who have promised their graduates 
"good fields." I believe a pastor, like any other 
Christian, owes fails very first duty to his Lord, 
and his very next to himself for his Lord's honor, 
and his own best usefulness. 

311 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I next went to Texas on a promise of labor 
in a Gospel Temperance Campaign backed by noble 
Helen M. Stoddard and some Godly Baptist men. 
In three weeks I frankly met the former, and con- 
fessed that I was too ill to keep up the struggle 
for bread, for such it really was, and promised 
our Father to let him care for me, His way. 

Coming North uncertain and weak, I found 
Chicago's greeting in the heartiest Grippe, with 
added expressions of its lack of affinity for a New 
Englander, and finally I was in the Baptist Hos- 
pital in the following January, 1902, because there 
Mas no other place where I felt free to add to the 
load of any burdened friends. I had no chronic 
difficulty, was tired out — that was all. Peter's as- 
surance that the trial of our faith, being more 
precious than that of gold, not the faith, but the 
trial of it — Ah! that was revealed to me those 
days, when 31 r. and Mrs. G. S. Sawyer, in charge 
of the hospital, were kind to me. 

Through snows and windy tempests, my frail 
sisters, Mrs. Sharp, Miss Starritt (the west never 
forgets)! and Miss Holloway, came to me, and I 
felt that after all I, too, had folks. 

On the evening in the hospital, when sleigh 
bells were jingling outside for the well and happy, 
I wrote the following in memory of coasting days 
with Brother Frank: 

THE LITTLE SLED IN THE ATTIC. 

Winter again: and I turn once more 
To my childhood's home for a holiday, 
312 



IN DEVIOUS PATHS 

And lift the latch of the attic door 
And climb its rickety, worn stairway. 

Ancient umbrellas, rent and torn, 
Lanterns, saddles and horseshoes old. 

Trenchers and cradles, and samplers worn, 
Trinkets of silver and bits of gold; 

Garments so quaintly out of style, 

Books and parchments, yellow and dim, 

Tools that no workman's art beguile, 

And dishes no house-mother conjures in; — 

Through all the rubbish I find my way 
To my dear little brother's cherished sled : 

It has made us happy for many a day, 
And its sight wakes memories long since dead. 

Handsome carriages, built for ease, 
Railway palace-cars, rich and grand, 

Steamships plowing the mighty seas, 
Jeweled treasures from every land — 

All from my vision pass away! 

Rarest melodies cease to flow! 
And the sweetest chimes that I hear to-day 

Are the bells of a little sled over the snow. 

Never a song of the vanished years, 
Full of the rhythmic notes of joy, 

Can thrill my spirit or free my tears 
Like the musical laugh of a happy boy. 

Do you not hear it — so silvery clear? 

Have you heard any other ring out like his? 
He is laughing aloud in glory now, 

Though a thorny pathway he trod to bliss. 

Call me weakly, ye women white, 
Laugh as ye will, stout-hearted men! 

I'd give for one hour of the old delight, 
All I have sought or known since then. 

313 



A PILGRIM MAID 

0, the years! 0, my brother! I miss him sore, 
Who rides over pavements the angels tread, 

In the City where nobodj' sorrows more, 

And they laugh and shine who were sad and dead. 

And I vow once more to be pure as snow, 
To lighten the burdens that others feel, 

To smile when the selfish tears would flow, 
And when proud and bitter to humbly kneel. 

With my face to the morning I'll travel on; 

With my brow to the stars, if I fall I'll lie; 
I will go to him who will not return, 

In the land of the Holy, some bye and bye. 

And through the grace of the One Divine, 

Who bade us live as a little child, 
I will keep my trust, I will bide my time, 

Till I laugh with my brother — the undefiled. 
Chicago. 



314 






CHAPTER XLI. 
Prayer 

' 'Lord, what a change within us one short hour 
Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make! 
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, 
What parched grounds refresh as with a shower, 
We kneel, and all around us seems to lower, 
We rise, and all, the distant and the near, 
Stands forth in sunny outline brave and clear ! 
We kneel how weak, we" rise how full of power I" 

My life so far has been a record of answered 
prayers. The only journal I have kept for the 
last few years is such a record. This journal has 
a wide margin in which are inscribed two letters 
up and down the page, a. p. (answered prayer), op- 
posite the recorded help, mental, financial, spirit- 
ual, in my time of need. I am learning that pray- 
er is not a bargain counter where we go to get 
things cheap. I ask for fewer things than once I 
did. God waits to give us Himself. 

We have no right consciously to ask anything 
less than the best. We may talk over all our 
needs with our Heavenly Father, telling Him all 
our feelings and desires in any matter, but when 
it comes to demanding a definite thing, we must 
hold it up before God in Ghrist's name, and first 
settle that it is worthy our pleading, and there- 
fore in His will. 

315 



A PILGRIM MAID 

How this method will expurgate selfish, silly, 
unnecessary things from our praying! O, how 
patient God has been with our demands! Bringing 
our petitions down to this simplicity, what holy 
things for ourselves and others we shall seek, and 
how definite we shall learn to be! Yes, let us 
winnow our petitions and mean what we say to 
God. In the Belearic Isles the mothers teach 
their little ones to shoot with bow and arrow, by 
tying their lunches up in packages and fastening 
them to a tree twig. The arrow must hit the twig 
and sever it from the tree ere the package falls 
for the hungry lad. Get at something in your 
praying. 

(iod is true. If once in all eternity He had 
falsified, not an angel in Heaven would know that 
He might not falsify again. He means His prom- 
ises. O, for overcoming praying! O, for definite 
pleading! O, for Christian believing! 

The devil's master stroke today is not the 
raid table, the dance, theater, or strong drink. 
It is that subtile influence which permeates much 
preaching and more practice, the leaven of spirit- 
ual corruption which works its way through chil- 
dren of praying mothers and Christian professors 
everywhere, that God is only a mighty law giver, 
with no personal, affectionate yearnings towards 
His individual child, and that prayer is simply an 
ethical habit worth cultivating, as one might gaze 
at the moon, or enjoy a glowing sunset, and be 
uplifted thereby. Christians, wake up! Take your 

316 



PRAYER 

Bibles and learn that its teachings on prayer are 
simple and clear, and that the God who answered 
Jonah and Daniel and your mother and mine is 
the same yesterday, today and forever. 

Plant your feet on a promise, and obey the 
conditions of prayer made so plain in the Bible, 
and go to praying as never before. The time is 
short. Commune with God, though the club, or the 
dainty salad, or the fancy-work go, all of which 
are well enough if they do not crowd out your 
Lord. Even fifteen minutes of real prayer daily 
will make new men and women of all who prac- 
tice it. 



317 



CHAPTER XLII. 
A Child in the Midst 

"Here at the portal thou dost stand, 
And with thy little hand 
Thou openest the mysterious gate, 
Into the future's undiscovered land." 

In going to and fro in the earth I have some- 
times felt that one of the saddest sights is the 
childless women. Yet I have not felt as childless 
as I might, because I have been honored with at 
least seven namesakes. One, a boy, takes only 
the "Townsley" part of the name. Another boy's 
parents were bound to get the "Frances" in some- 
where and gave it to their son as a middle name. 
But the rest are straight out Frances Townsley, 
plus surname. One waits for me in the Home- 
land, whither at nine years of age she entered 
in after a beautiful life in which she sought to 
please Jesus, and after that to grow up "just such 
a woman as Miss Townsley would like to have 
her." She has found a development and a charac- 
ter eternally pure. I do not tell mourning par- 
ents at the many child-funerals where I serve, 
that they will find the dear one a child still, after 

318 



A CHILD IN THE MIDST 

the long, weary years of waiting. Longfellow un- 
derstood, who said: 

"Not as a child shall we again behold her, 

For .when, with raptures wild 

Our fond embraces shall again enfold her; 

She will not be a child, 

But a fair maiden in our Father's mansion 

Clothed with celestial grace; 

In all the beauty of the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face." 

***** Here, as hitherto, I would tenderly 
and heartily thank those who have asked to name 
their innocent little ones after one who is surely 
better and humbler for this honor, and repeat 
what I wrote years ago: 

u l am glad that you named her for me 

The dear little baby who came, 

And I promise you two, with a pledge most true 

She shall never be grieved for her name." 

"I may stumble sometimes in my weakness, 
And tear drops my vision may blur, 
But happy or sad, I must never be bad, 
But always most loyal to her!' 

My children's meetings are full of comfort to 
me, who have had to borrow other people's chil- 
dren through the years, and borrow I have. For 
no woman's life is complete without the touch of 
baby fingers, the trustfulness of infancy, the 
watching of the progressive developing of the 
child-mind and body, — to stimulate her holiest en- 
deavor and rouse to devotion and prayer for hour- 
ly wisdom. 

The conversion of children is as much a real- 
319 



A PILGRIM MAID 

itv as that of grown people. But the numbers of 
apparently unconverted children swept into our 
churches by pastors to swell the number of addi- 
tions to be reported at next Association or Con- 
ference, is to lny mind one appalling cause of the 
of spiritual life and purpose in the church 

ty. 

Three little boys came to me one day to tell 
me of sins their parents did not know and asked 
it their duty would not be fully performed if they 
sin ply burned the evidences of their deceit and 

obedience and turned over a new leaf, thus sav- 

their parents the sad horror of the revelation 
tliey perhaps need not make. 

After a little visit on the subject of child- 
hood's obligations to parents, and the need of 
candid* open conduct toward all, I proposed we 

. over the subject. Each little fellow kneeling 
with me, told God what he thought about it and 
then said. "I am determined to obey Christ/' I 

owed with a brief prayer, and as we rose the 
boys turned to me. each saying in effect as the 
tears rolled down his cheek, "Thank you, dear 
Miss Townley, I'm going straight home to take my 
father and mother into the barn and show 'em 

T I've been a-doin'; then I'll join the church!'' 

Two things I have tried to teach children in 
homes where I have had the right. That iinnied- 
i;. » obedience is the only real obedience, and that 
respect for one's elders is the proper tribute 
youth owes to age. I find delightful home life all 

320 



A CHILD IN THE MIDST 

over the country. Untrained children abound 
most certainly, but, living since eighteen years old 
in other people's homes, I am overjoyed to see the 
beautiful home life which prevails among rich and 
poor. The boy born of such mothers as I know, 
of such fathers as glorify the name of fatherhood, 
will not go far astray. 

The girl who has a companion in her mother, 
and "loves to love her," as surely as to be loved 
and petted by her, will be likely to develop a true 
womanhood. We hear about the poodle dog and 
canary bird taking the place of infants on moth- 
er's laps, and in their music loving homes. But 
at the worst, it is not so common! Count the 
babies. Then list the poodles and the Maltese 
cats, and the baby outnumbers the cat and the 
dog a hundred to one! While a human man or 
woman can write this sonnet, or feel it, the coun- 
try is safe. 

In pathos, poetry and power, it equals any of 
Mrs. Browning's wonderful heart cries. I have 
treasured it a good while: 

CHILDLESS. 
Ah, barren! to go barren to the grave! 
Have I not in my thought trained little feet 
To venture, and taught little lips to move 
Until they shaped the wonder of a word? 
I am long practiced. Oh, those children mine, 
Mine, doubly mine, and yet I cannot touch, 
Hear, see them! Does great God expect that I 
Shall clasp his air and kiss his wind forever? 

321 



A PILGRIM MAID 

And the eternal budding eometh on, 

Theburgeoning, the cruel flowering! 

At night the quickening splash of rain, at dawn 

The call of the young bird finds out my heart, 

And any babe tossed up before my eyes 

With ripples of wild laughter pierces me. 

Still I, amid these sights and sounds, starve on." 



322 



CHAPTER XLIII. 
Prohibition Prohibiting 

We expect to bury the liquor traffic 
Way down deep with a joy seraphic, 
my soul ! my soul ! Hail the day 

O my soul! 
Our faith is strong that our cause so glorious 
O'er the earth shall be victorious. 
Do you hear? Do you hear? 
Do you hear what we say? 

During my residence in a prohibition town 
and county I learned some practical lessons on 
the possibility of Prohibition in any county or 
village so minded. Fairfield had a prohibition 
mayor and council and we easily kept the evil 
out. A man from another county once came to 
us, with a good Baptist wife, and opened a Tem- 
perance restaurant. Soon we were convinced that 
he was a liquor seller. The officers had searched 
his lunch room and his office with his permission, 
all in vain. Finally the Mayor said to me, "You 
and other women will have to help us find the 
hiding place of the unlawful stuff." Taking a 
Baptist sister to call upon the man's wife as we 
had of course intended doing, I kept my eyes, as 
ever extremely nearsighted, wide open, also my 

323 



A PILGRIM MAID 

ears and my nostrils. The lady seemed pleasant 
but constrained. As we were leaving she said, "I 
have the very finest view of the sunset from my 
west windows. It is now a good time to share 
my view, but pardon me if I take you into my 
kitchen. The window just over the kitchen sink 
is the one from which to look." I looked, I 
lingered, I smelled. A strange whiff came from 
that iron sink. Now the closet under the sink is 
used by good housekeepers generally as a place 
for kettles, skillets and the like. As I gazed on 
that royal prairie sunset (I hope you have seen 
such), I quickly leaned over the sink and pressed 
my knee against the latch of that kettle closet. 
It did not give. As I turned away I dropped my 
handkerchief, stooped to pick it up and tried to 
turn that closet door knob. It was locked tight. 
The idea of a woman's locking her kettle closet 
under the sink! The smell was more decidedly 
liquor-ish than before. On the street I said to 
the Mayor, "If you'll use your nose more keenly 
and open Mrs. L.'s sink-closet you may smell some- 
thing strong." An officer was sent who found 
said closet packed with pint flasks and small bot- 
tles of liquor, one of which had burst, sending 
forth the odor which I had so easily detected. 
These small cases were easily carried in his 
pocket to his restaurant by Mr. L., but he carried 
none with him to the county jail the following 
week, when he was sent up for thirty days, dur- 
ing which time we all cared tenderly for his wife 

324 



PROHIBITION PROHIBITING 

who said with tears, "I did not wish Mr. L. to 
come to Fairfield. He bragged that he could 
hoodwink any town, but I told him this was of a 
different sort. As a Christian woman I am glad 
he went to prison. He may learn something 
there." He certainly learned enough to leave 
Fairfield on his release. We all realized that 
"eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." Not 
many weeks passed without a rousing Temper- 
ance — no, 1 mean Prohibition mass meeting. 

I was one day, by the citizens, offered the al- 
ternative, either to give two lectures, at a Three- 
Days' Citizens' Rally, or preside over the three- 
days' session, introducing all the speakers and 
being "responsible for the good cheer., and suc- 
cess of the meetings." I chose the latter. And 
be sure, on that western border, we always had 
the best lecturers, and always most excellent 
schools. And for a good while, "no Doubtful on 
Prohibition lines need apply," seemed written 
over every pulpit entrance and School Principal's 
office. 

The women were not lacking in the three G's 
— -"Grit, Grace and Gumption." One afternoon 
a boy was seen in an alley gloating with a little 
mate over an obscene picture removed from a 
stick of gum, which pictures, he said, were often 
found in such purchases. The motherly woman 
who beheld, forced the boy to tell where he 
bought the gum, quietly marched the child into 
the store, asked the well-meaning proprietor 

325 



A PILGRIM MAID 

"what lie meant to do about it," and as he went 
through his gum cases and found a few more such 
devices of the devil, he was decidedly ready to 
ship the remaining lot back with a rather fiery 
letter to the firm who sent the article, — "a new 
firm to him" he declared; and the apology they 
sent back with the assurance that "new shipping 
clerks were responsible for the regretted error/' 
etc., would have made anybody but our good 
merchant and the Fairfield W. C. T. XL — smile. 

One day I was appointed by our local Union 
of which I was the President, to interview a 
grocer who was selling tobacco to minors con- 
trary to the law of the state. He seemed very 
ignorant that he was breaking the laws, in selling 
to small boys the tobacco their grandfathers sent 
them for, and as I quietly assured him of my 
goodwill and pulled a copy of Nebraska's laws 
borrowed from a friendly lawyer, from under my 
cloak, he said, " What's the penalty?" I opened 
and read "twenty -five dollars fine and a number 
of days in the county jail." He promised to re- 
form, and as I took his hand in parting, I said, 
"We are your friends; I am glad to see you at 
my services on Sabbath evenings. We won't 
prosecute yet, but we are set for the protection 
of the Home and the majesty of the Law. Every 
day some good women will run in here to see 
how you are getting along, and if you keep the 
law or not. She can tell!" And some one woman 
of "ours" every day for weeks, made a shopping 

326 



PROHIBITION PROHIBITING 

errand to his grocery and looked him kindly in 
the face, and once a week he was plainly asked, 
as the boys in question were, if he "sold tobacco 
to any minor." How long do you think he needed 
any such surveillance? Yet we had his high 
esteem and sincere respect. 

One more incident and I will change the sub- 
ject: A leading druggist hung, thoughtlessly, in 
his drug store a nearly nude woman's picture as 
an "ad" for some patent medicine he was selling. 
A lady at our weekly Union Meeting asked if we 
had any responsibility in the matter, and was ans- 
wered, "Every self-respecting woman in the vil- 
lage is responsible for its removal!" We formed 
a plan which in all kindness was carried out as 
follows: at nine o'clock on Monday morning Mrs. 
T. entered said drug store "to buy a slate for 
her son in school." As the druggist wrapped it for 
her she turned toward the aforesaid picture, 
gazed on it with flashing eyes and then quietly 
said — "If you'll excuse me I'll make my purchase 
across the way." 

At eleven o'clock another white ribboner 
entered, asked to see some stationery, turned 
around to see something that ought not to be 
stationary long, and walked out. 

At two and five, Avomen in similar manner 
seemed about to trade with our good neighbor, 
and as suddenly changed their minds. The 
number appointed by us to thus demonstrate our 
womanhood was nine. By the time they all had 

327 



A PILGRIM MAID 

done their duty as agreed, Mr. B. rushed home 
to his noble wife and cried, "Susie! What on 
earth's the matter with all the women?" As he 
rehearsed his amazement adding "In a week I'll 
have to close out if this goes on — they all stared 
at the shelves on the right side of the store and 
then changed to a freezing manner as they left 
me." Mrs. B. said, "Come, I'll go down street 
with you and see if I can solve the mystery." 
She entered the store, looked at the right hand 
counter and shelves, and for the first time spied 
the offending bit of nude advertisement. 
"Charlie," she said, as she took out her watch, 
"It's almost supper time. You needn't come up 
to tea at six; and I guess you'd better lodge at 
the hotel tonight, that is, "she chockingly added" 
unless that insult to decency and pure woman- 
hood is pitched out of here in just two minutes." 
"One will do" he said and — he took tea at home 
with Susie. 

I haven't time to tell you of the young men 
who joined our church after quietly telling me 
they came to our county to get away from the 
licensed saloon. Nor of the men who found 
Fairfield was a prohibition town after all and 
tried their hands at some business there other 
than the previous one; nor of the prayers and 
tears and brains and purpose needed to keep the 
foul fiend of drunkenness out. Many others knew 
all about it, and as God is sure, many others shall 
yet know, for, 

328 



PROHIBITION PROHIBITING 

"Eight is right since God is God, 
And Right the day shall win; 

To doubt would be disloyalty 
To falter would be sin." 

See the progress of the prohibition sentiment 
the last twenty years! To-day we are on the 
eve of a National prohibition movement that shall 
bury the liquor traffic face down in a grave so 
deep it shall know no resurrection forever and a 
day. : 



329 



CHAPTER XLIV. 
A Peep at a Letter Book 

■"No man can write anything who does not think that 
what he writes is. for the time, the history of the world; or do any- 
thing well who does not esteem his work to be of importance. n 

Letters have boon {sent me that were hardly 
worth the postage, without a thought, an en- 
couraging word, a punctuation mark, or an item of 
news. But one day 1 received one from a Yassar 
college graduate whose household had once 
entertained me. which caused me to say to a 
wise Friend "What makes thai young lady's let- 
ters impress me so unpleasantly? They are 
rather nice, chaty missives, but they leave me 
with a queer mental nausea." I read a good 
portion of one of them to my friend who said, 
'-Suppose you count the capital Fs in this letter/' 
I did. and the mystery of the nausea was solved. 
Ever since in letters I have tried to avoid the I. 
(In an autobiography one cannot.) 

Another (housekeeper) friend writes nothing 
but of her hard work, her washer woman, what 
she gave certain guests for dinner and the like. 

330 




A PEEP AT A LETTER BOOK 

We generally write that which is uppermost in 
our minds. But I have tried in some measure, 
to write letters with some degree of considera- 
tion for the circumstances of my correspondent. 

All letters sent me I have answered with one 
exception which I will give you. In a heavy mail 
one vacation morning after a season in evangelis- 
tic work I found this, which I transcribe as it was 
written : 

"Miz townslee, 

i am the man that built the fires and rung 
the bell at the meeting house in Walkerville, 
where you held meetings. 

I am all alone in the world and i understand 
you be. Now if you think you can put up with 
a poor ole chap like me, i promise to be good to 
you so long as we both shall live. J. Jones. 
I*. S. i am a Scotchman and machinist by trade." 

My traveling companion when in that field 
was sitting by as I read, and said, "What's the 
matter now — Any more fools to kill? You look 
white!" I read her the tender note expecting 
sympathy, but instead I received this bit of re- 
buke — "Good enough for you! No more than you 
deserve!" "What do you mean?" I gasped, 
"I've no memory of this man." 

"Why, don't you recall that fat, red-headed 
man who was church janitor at W.? I hope this 
will teach you not to be so very gracious to the 
janitor, the snow-shoveler, the scrubber of floors, 

331 



A PILGRIM MAID 

and such people after this! You used to poke 
your tired head into the furnace room daily as 
you left the church, to tell the janitor how com- 
fortable the temperature was, how neat the pulpit 
was kept, and all to be kind, I suppose; that man 
never dreamed but what you were dying to marry 
him." 

What should I do with his letter? If I 
answered it, (and mother always said, that who- 
ever proposed to you, having offered his very best 
and himself, deserved a polite if a negative 
answer.) If I wrote over my signature the short- 
est refusal he could vent his displeasure by tell- 
ing his cronies that he had had a correspondence 
with the evangelist, Miss Townsley, on the sub 
ject of matrimony; and it would be true. 

Ah, little mother, you never in your time 
guessed at some perplexities a later day would 
bring your girl! I could not think his heart 
would ache, bend, or break over my silence, so I 
pitched said letter into the fire and never replied 
to it. 

I've received scores of letters from pulpitless 
ministers asking for my influence in their behalf; 
most of them have failed to enclose a postage 
stamp in return for, or to extend such "influence." 
Really, women who write soliciting a favor, and 
they are many, usually enclose a stamp for re- 
ply- 

I have had letters asking me "if we can in- 
duce our unsatisfactory pastor to leave, will you 

332 



A PEEP AT A LETTER BOOK 

take his place ?" to which I have replied about 
as any real self-respecting lady would, to a man 
asking "if my wife should not recover from her 
present illness will you consider taking her 
placed" Isn't Common Sense a rather uncommon 
thing, after all? 

One letter received when I was in the hos- 
pital seeking rest I here quote: — I had been 
tempted, as others have been, to wonder if God 
knew, if the self-denial and toil, and perplexities 
of the years availed in His sight or in human 
lives, beyond what a more selfish course of life 
might have wrought. And then some one came, 
who asked me if I remembered a drinking man, 
who had been converted in my meetings in a small 
town, years ago, in the West. After some thought 
1 was able to recall the poor fellow, who, with his 
wife, came to the meetings, where hardly one 
professing Christian believed there was much use 
to seek the salvation of "Eph Bent." 

I remembered how small the work seemed till 
the evening when that large, disheartened man 
came forward to ask the help of God and men. 
And when the friend told me that "Eph" was a 
true Christian to-day, and pastor of a church, I 
wrote him a letter and his answer has come. 
Yes, he is now "Rev. Ephriam M. Bent." I read 
his words tearfully, thankfully, exultantly, for 
that little meeting paid. "Eph" has a church of 
many members, and a son also in the ministry 
in the capital city of his state. I will give a 

333 



A PILGRIM MAID 

part of the man's letter — perhaps it will cheer 
some one else who is taking a rest. 

"How many times I have thought of what 
you said the night I knelt to pray in the little 
church at C — ! No one came to give me one en- 
couraging word, save yourself. No syllable of 
sympathy fell on my waiting ears. It seemed to 
me I should die. Do you remember urging Chris- 
tians to come to us with the strong right hand 
of helpful love? "Love?" How strange that 
word seemed to me! How I hungered after one 
word of encouraging sympathy! God only knows 
the long and bitter struggle with the old nature 
which clung to this world with the tenacity of 
death. 

Some of your words still burn in my heart, 
and are a white light in my life. * * * * The 
seed you sowed so long ago has brought forth 
much fruit. * * * * I am but 44 years of 
age now, and I feel that God has still a greater 
work for me to do. * * * * My life is rich 
and full. * * * * Thanking you for writing, 
I shall always remember you as my best friend." 

Thinking of that man, who had lost home, 
and heart, and hope, in the clutches of the enemy, 
and yet was secretly longing for deliverance from 
sin, I believe we have no right to discourage any- 
one who is yet spared of God to live on the 
earth. For what is he spared? For you to push 
farther down hill? For you to turn from saying, 
"He's a lost man."? For church members in a 

334 



A PEEP AT A LETTER BOOK 

meeting to turn from coldly, as if God in His 
heaven could not deliver him, and therefore we 
must not encourage false hopes for his conver- 
sion? We wonderfully need a rich, deep — knee- 
deep, self-deep baptism of love, I do not mean 
gush. I do not mean humanitarianism, pure and 
simple, which often has not a particle of love in 
it. I do not mean the spasm that gives a man a 
load of coal and a barrel of flour in January and 
lets him drink himself insane the fourth of July; 
or that other spasm, that prays for him in the 
week of prayer and helps license a saloon on the 
first week in April. I mean the love that sends 
us to our knees alone with Jesus Christ, drink- 
ing in His spirit, confessing and forsaking our 
indifferences to sin and the downfallen, and let- 
ting His Life surge through us and fill our heart's 
and eyes, and speak through our lips. Not our 
love for Christ but His love, His kind, His very 
own. 

And O! how many mourners write me for 
comfort, and there are griefs only a God can 
soothe. Graves in the heart there are where God 
only can comfort. To all sorrowing ones I would 
say: 

It is hard to live when the inspiration has 
gone out of our lives, and consciously or uncon- 
sciously, even the holiest and best depend, in a 
greater or less degree, on the inspiration of some 
earthly hope, some human pledge, some dear, 
sweet uplift born of a tie or an encouragement 
of this life. 

335 



A PILGRIM MAID 

As I look over an audience I am touched 
deeply by one sight — that of the weeds of mourn- 
ing here and there, telling of unspeakable losses, 
and at the same time comes the assurance that 
there are many who wear no outward badge of woe, 
but at whose heart's door is hung the crape indicative 
of a great anguish. Like Tennyson, they sing in a 
minor key, of a "Grief" which 

"took the body of a past delight — 
Warded it, balmed it, 
Swathed it for the grave, 
And laid it in a sepulchre of rocks, 
NVvcr to rise again." 

But let uae bid all such to remember what 
I am just learning myself, that it is a sad mistake 
to linger too long at the sepulchre of any dead 
"delight." Yea, even though you seem to see 
there, clad in glistening raiment, two angels, 
Consolation and Sympathy. 

Lift up your eyes to behold One standing 
over against the sepulchre, saying, in tones 
sweeter than earthly poet or musician ever 
dreamed, "Go ye into all the world, and tell good 
tidings. There is no such thing as a lost hope; 
;t> i pure dream not to be fulfilled; as a heavenly 
desire not to be attained! Some day, some where, 
God will bring forth to you your buried treasure, 
nor just as you laid it away, but purified, beauti- 
ful, glorified beyond your highest thought!" 

My sister, Christ is better than the angels. 
\u> you say. Shall I carry His message with tears 
in my eyes? Yes. With a quiver in my voice? 

336 



A PEEP AT A LETTER BOOK 

Yes. With a breaking heart? Yes. 

Listen: Y^ou have been praying for more 
talents. God has answered your prayer. I 
charge ye to remember this day, at your 
sepulchre, in your unexpected sorrow, you who 
felt so unfitted to go to tempted, tried, strug- 
gling humanity — you have found your desired 
talent. 

Now and then, very seldom, I have received 
v. letter from some young woman aspiring to the 
ministry. To such I have sent several questions, 
of which the following are samples: (they might 
as appropriately have been sent to some young 
men I have had to deal with.) Do you propose 
to teach the masses, every week, keeping up with 
the times? Are you trained as an instructor in 
Bible lore, christian ethics, social reforms, and 
in pastoral theology? Have you any homiletical 
and exegetical gifts or training? Do you realize 
the pulpit is the educator of the masses? that you 
must study and study hard, continually, to hold 
your place as guide, expositor and instructor be- 
fore those who employ you? Do you know the 
difference between an evangelist/ s duties and 
those of a pastor? 

One class of workers can joyfully, eloquently 
say, "Come to Jesus;" but farther than a few 
nibbles in the broad, green pastures of divine 
truth cannot nourish a flock, much less guard it 
from prowling wolves. It means much to shep- 
herd a flock of the Master's sheep, no tw T o of 

337 



A PILGRIM MAID 

which are alike in previous environments, present 
needs, or future possibilities. k 'Lay hands sud- 
denly on no man" is not of local, but of universal 
application. 

Most of my opinion on women in the pulpit is 
summed up in an editorial for which I was asked 
a while ago, and which is as follows: 
WOMAN IN THE PULPIT. 

Yes, she is there. The question is no more. 
Can she preach? That is settled. To preach is 
to declare — herald forth. The gospel is sup- 
posedly the thing to be heralded from a pulpit. 
Why not by woman? She is from Eve down, 
naturally fond of mystery. She loves, in a de- 
gree, the mystical. But the woman of to-day is 
as practical as she is given to hearing the 
"voices/' 

The love of searching into mysterious things 
is often called woman's curiosity in one sex, and 
philosophic investigation in the other. But for 
all that, woman also has a constantly increasing 
desire for greater knowledge and larger wisdom. 
She graduates from the high school, ten to one 
of her brothers; she goes on to college and uni- 
versity through sheer love of knowledge, and it 
is the most reasonable thing that the theological 
seminary as well should find her at its door. 
She is naturally more worshipful than man, and 
it is generally conceded, more spiritual. Her 
sympathies are more tender, her expression of 
them more natural, her perceptions keener. To 

338 






A PEEP AT A LETTER BOOK 

quote Victor Hugo, "Man has sight, and woman 
has insight." 

For nearly two thousand years men preach- 
ers have been declaring the gospel, and the large 
proportion of their converts have been women. 
Let woman share the office of preacher and 
pastor, and possibly the larger proportion of their 
converts will be men. 

Woman's manner in the pulpit is fully as 
reverent as man's, her felicity of expression fully 
as noticeable. The novelty of woman's speaking 
has long since worn off. People rally to hear her 
as they do to hear the most celebrated men of 
the pulpit and platform. 

The day of the weak voiced woman is about 
over; for proper training in oratory has made 
her voice possess a clearness equal to her 
brother's sonorosity of tone. Women lecturers 
are to-day addressing daily audiences of from one 
to ten thousand, and are heard. 

Woman will not hope to assume the office 
of public teacher without due preparation. Not 
when an English lady of twenty carries off the 
Greek prize from the students of Cambridge Uni- 
versity; and the Pundita Ramabai masters 
Sanscrit and four other languages; and another 
high caste Hindu woman writes choice verses in 
French and English at twenty-one; not when the 
presidents of the colleges in America are de- 
claring the precedence of the girls in scholarship 
every commencement season. 

The brethren need not fear that the vast ma- 
339 



A PILGRIM MAID 

jority of women will seek church pastorates. So 
far, with trivial exceptions, the pastorates have 
sought them. As a public speaker or reader on 
secular things, or as a musician, far more financial 
appreciation with far less strain on nerves and 
sympathies, and many less burdens of personal 
responsibility will be freely accorded her. 

She will teach and preach the gospel, and 
shepherd a flock of active, immortal men and 
women, because, through divine providences, de- 
mand of circumstances and in her inmost soul 
she lias heard and answered a most 'imperative call. 
She will not shirk the closest examination of 
an ordination council, for this has ever been 
proven in her case; but that council will be com- 
pelled to confront one question of mighty im- 
port: "Is the Holy Ghost in his calling limited 
by the fact of sex?" 

Woman will not enter the pulpit to disrupt 
the home. The ordination councils can see to 
that; and Heaven grant, the carefulness which 
we beg in examination of women candidates for 
the ministry, may thereby be extended to the 
other sex! 

As to home, the woman-heart is the mother- 
heart the world over. She cannot deny herself. 
The majority of women ministers will be those 
for whom the questions of home and maternity 
have been settled for all time. The majority of 
men are not in pulpits. The majority of women 
will not enter them. 

340 



CHAPTER XLV. 
My Cross 

"A little way to walk with you, my own — 

Only a little way. 
Then one of us must weep and walk alone 

Until God's day. 

A little way! It is so sweet to live 

Together that I know 
Life would not have one withered rose to give 

If one of us should go. 

And if these lips should ever learn to smile. 

With your heart far from mine, 
'T would be for joy that in a little while 

They would be kissed by thine ! ; ' 

Greater than the romances we read, as girls, 
are the experiences that come to some women of 
years. 

Much of error and folly and sin could be 
saved us all, did we early learn the difference be- 
tween Passion and Love. Passion cries, and 
howls, and demands. 

Love, not defined by any dictionary, love 
which science cannot analyze, or any encylopedia 
classify, love is based on the holiest of friend- 
ship. It is not to fade away when the hair of 
the loved one is grey, when the beauty of the 
once fair face is marred by wrinkles, and lines 
suggestive of toil, trial and crosses. It is fed 

341 



A PILGRIM MAID 

by inner springs of beauty, by character-develop- 
ment, by increasing nobleness of soul, and so will 
abide 

u Till the sun grows cold 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the judgment book unfold!'' 

It is in a hard school that I have learned 
this holy truth. I am a better friend to-day than 
years ago, when oftimes selfish passion domin- 
ated in my heart-life, and made me even in friend- 
ship's name a hinderer where I should have been 
a friend. 

I learned the beauty of a dedicated friend- 
ship, when into my life came a love that cannot 
be explained in this life story. But with its pos- 
session came a new Gethsemane of self-renun- 
ciation, which I pray few women of like intensity 
and heart hunger may know. Yet it has meant 
the holiest joy, though it has meant the daily 
saying of a mighty No to the deepest pleadings of 
human hearts. 

Through this experience have come to me 
blessed victories, and if the gates of glory shall 
open wider one more awful day than any you 
lead of herein, be sure I am glad God has trusted 
me with so great and peculiar a cross as I must 
bear through the years or be untrue to the best 
ethics of the Sermon on the Mount. 

Seldom have I groaned aloud, but the very 
few who know will understand the silence, and 
the poem which Dr. A. J. Gordon years ago re- 

342 



MY CROSS 

ceived with tender words of appreciation for his 
magazine, The Watchword. And so till the morn- 
ing break, and the shadows flee away, i bear 
MY CROSS. 
It lies beneath my raiment, so 
The world gives little heed: 
O, Thou, whose eyes are very keen 
Forget it not, I plead! 

"It is not heavy," say my friends, 

Passing another way: 
O, Thou whose balances are just, 

Discern its weight, I pray! 

I do not faint because of this; 

I only some days cry; 
And though it grieves my spirit sore, 

I dare not lay it by. 

Oh. hidden cross! Oh, secret ttiorm 

So small, so sharp a thing; 
Paul, with his own thrice-offered prayer 

Had never felt thy sting! 

Mary, whose idol-worshippers 

Her seven sorrows mourn, 
Could bring no solace in her touch 

To heal my soul so torn. 

But hark! a voice the silence stirs 

Of love's strong agony, 
And breathes a true heart's trustful words 

From out Gethsemane. 

"Thy will, my Father, unto pain 

And scorn and anguish sore, 
Yea, unto death, thy will be done!" 

List! 'tis a conqueror. 

Low in the dust I bow! I trust! 
Henceforth no cross, no chain, 

343 



A PILGRIM MAID 

Xo sorrow open to the world, 

Xo galling, secret pain / 

Can harm me. As the conqueror prayed 

I pour my garden prayer! 
"Father, Thy will! I cannot see! 

Thou, Lord, art everywhere. 

Thine is the kingdom, Eeign in me! 

The power — bend lower down; 
The Glory— Lord at Thy dear feet 

Behold my cross — A crown! 



344 



GHAPTER XLVI. 
Where Am I Now? 

"Far out of sight, while sorrows yet unfold us, 
Lies the far country where our hearts abide ; 
And of its bliss is naught more wondrous told us 
Than these few words, — I shall be satisfied. 

Tither my weak and weary steps are tending. 

Savior and Lord, with Thy frail child abide ; 

Guide me towards Home, where all my wanderings ending, 

I shall see Thee, and shall be satisfied !" 

The last few years have been spent in 
pastoral supply, two long summers and one spring 
at Austin (Chicago), three months at the Cove- 
nant Baptist Church of Englewood, where pre- 
viously, under Dr. Frederick, I had lectured, 
evangelized and supplied, — and two months in W, 
C. T. U. Institute work, with Kathryn S. Sawyer 
of Illinois, and in Evangelistic efforts far and 
near. It was in 1904 that I finally consented to 
re-visit the scenes of Egypt (in Southern Illinois) 
and address two G-. A. R. Posts on Memorial day, 
being the guest of John T. Henry and wife of 
Irvington. He, with a heart bigger than his 
political aspirations, has learned that in politics 
"the spoils belong to the victors" and to the 
drudgery to the one who helps another win. 

Yes, at last, after thirty-five years I gathered 
345 



A PILGRIM MAID 

courage to again stand where I once surrendered 
my girlhood's hopes, and as the tears of the only 
few left in the homes where I was erst a wel- 
come child, fell fast in sympathy, I shed my own 
with gratitude that God had so surely and so 
often saved me from myself. Through briers 
and weeds to my waist, I found my way to 
brother Willie's grave to lay down the flowers 
that dear Mr. and Mrs. Henry had sought and 
brought for my long delayed offering; and again 
I said, as I have ever felt, "No general, no states- 
man, with a uniform and honors and high praises 
ever offered more to his country, or was any truer 
patriot, than the lad whose dust at my feet is all 
that earth now claims." I left directions for the 
care of that spot, and Mrs. Ward Atherton of old 
Hoyleton, rested and sheltered me many hours 
in her lovely prairie home. 

To pass the gateway where Satan fought for 
my young soul, so long ago, to look at the win- 
dows where Mother once watched for my return, 
to linger near the door whence stranger — Ger- 
mans now peered forth to ask, however kindly, 
"Vat you vant — eh?" those who have been sim- 
ilarly placed will understand; and no other, by 
any sort of explanation, could. * 

The soil of that part of green Illinois is 
sacred for my soldier brother's sake. Thank God 
for peace — for us all! 

"No more shall the war cry sever, 
Or the winding rivers be red; 
346 



WHERE AM I NOW 

They banish our anger forever 
When they laurel the graves of our dead! 

Under the sod and the dew 

Waiting the judgment day; 
Love and tears for the blue. 

Tears and love for the gray." 

The past year my heart began to yearn again 
for the West, its prairies, people and work. 

In truth I had as good as promised to go 
West again, when I ascertained that in order to 
properly dress and arrange my daughter, this 
book, to appear in public, I must be in the vicinity 
of Chicago. At the same time, just as the Father 
ever has helped me in times of perplexity, I re- 
ceived a call to become the Assistant Pastor of 
the busy, aggressive, soul-seeking church, the 
First Baptist, of Austin Station, Chicago, where 
my membership is held when I am on the business 
of the King to and fro in the land. I accepted 
the call for six months, which the Board of 
Deacons assured me meant preaching in the busy 
pastor's frequent absences, leading the mid-week 
services frequently, as well as extensive calling 
on members, numbering now five hundred and 
fifty or more, and doing all possible to build up 
the church and its large Sabbath School, where 
Superintendent E. S. Osgood's face shines out 
over several hundred pupils each Sabbath, from 
which school come into the church membership 
from time to time the best working force thereof. 
To this church I am indebted for many courtesies 

347 



A PILGRIM MAID 

and helpful ministries in His Name. 

So here amid the discharge of my duties, in 
this busy field, I have revised, re-arranged and 
corrected these pages, with the valuable aid of 
my latest and most highly appreciated sten- 
ographer. Miss Morrissey of the great city, and 
as I say, 1 inwardly vow never to write my life 
story again! 

It is a very sacred task 1 am laying down 
with the common steel pens which have tran- 
scribed every syllable herein. I have sought to 
honor God, the Father, the Son and the Holy 
Spirit. I have hoped to lead girls, by its reading, 
to be good to their mothers, and boys to be noble 
and heroic. 

This book has been written under peculiar 
difficulties. Eight different homes, at least, have 
sheltered me (luring its writing. It was begun 
just one year ago in Kingsville, Ohio, at the home 
of the Rev. J. Phillips and wife; she needs but a 
few more years to make her seem a veritable 
mother to me; the patient, helpful, prayerful 
husband, whose desire to "do and be just what 
God would wish" in physical suffering which can- 
not cloud his cultured mind, or daunt his splendid 
courage, has been a helpful inspiration to me; 
in that home are younger sisters who love me 
and who care, and a veritable big brother Tom, 
from whom I expect great nobility of soul. 

Afterwards I hastened to my Chicago shelter, 
the home of Deacon J. Q. A. Rugg and the hos- 

348 



WHERE AM I NOW 

pitable Mary, his wife, of Austin, where the gate 
latch ever yields easily to my pilgrim touch, for 
these two will have a fence and a gate, — the only 
thing in which they are not strictly up to date. 

Here La Grippe seized all three of us, and in 
common courtesy to the overburdened, I hurried 
on to Maywood's frequent refuge, the home of 
Mrs. Sharp and my precious Miss Holloway, at 
whose desk I found a corner, until invited to the 
summer home of Mrs. C. C. Varney and her 
daughter, Mrs. Helen V. Donaldson, where 
guarded from intrusion of every sort, and blessed 
with sympathy sincere, I wrote the middle part 
of the volume. 

Then the last half was too hurriedly written, 
in a den in the woods of a Michigan summer 
resort, from which I soon hastened. 

With rny journals, note books and memo- 
randa scattered far and near, it has been my lot 
to catch up my pen one hour to drop it the next, 
while I took a train to fill a pulpit some where 
over Sunday, or spend a month as supply for a 
pastorless people; to shed scalding tears over one 
page, and lose the next while turning to tell a 
cheerful tale or rehearse a divine promise to 
some discouraged soul; to hunt for a journal in 
a desk in Ohio when it was calmly reposing in a 
box in Michigan, to look for something in Michi- 
gan and find the item sought was in Nebraska; 
all this has not been conducive to smoothness of 
diction or beauty of expression. 

349 



A PILGRIM MAID 

I have employed five different stenographers, 
in four different localities, somewhat to their con- 
fusion as surely as mine. To my first dear little 
stenographer, Miss Elva Gage of Quincy, Michigan, 
I owe a debt of thanks for careful, painstaking 
labor, which money alone cannot repay. To have 
mailed these chapters a few at a time so hur- 
riedly, and to have received them again neatly 
typewritten with the loss of no leaf or sentence, 
is a cause for gratitude. I cannot send out this 
work forgetting such due recognition. 

What is my message? The one lesson I have 
learned, though imperfectly, is the great dram- 
atist's counsel, which I would leave you all. 

Hang the words in your bed-chamber, in- 
scribe them on your heart's tablets, live them day 
and night; when the sun of life's morning gilds 
your face, or the night dews or death gather on 
your brow; toiling or resting, gaining or losing, 
here or yonder, 

"To thine own self be true; 

And it shall follow as the night the day; 

Thou canst not then be false to any man." 

431 North Pine Avenue, 
Austin Station, Ghicago. 



H 11 88 

350 













"%* 






»* 






° ^ 






of 



^ ^ 
*.<* 






.* 



[■23* ^ <£ »W^ v /^6fefe" ^v A** 

' ^i* A ^ ^ 

• * * A <* . 



,$&~ 













' °0 Mffff 6 "" 81 ^ the Bookkeeper process 

=" o» -^ T ra " Z ' n9a 9 ent:Ma 9"esium Oxide 

S^< -^CT iSmffet'. °r Treatment Date: April 2006 

^"•^^ ; ^% : -5^» : 0^°^ f w r eservat »"onTechnologies 

V <^ n^ «.» l"™om Mn Part< Drive 





* *■■ < 

■ft? * * " c v 


















X 







* v ►!< 



\y" ;^fM*'. ^ 



4?-^ 







4». ** *♦ /J 









^ 











*c 












•by 










^.^ v 



*V<c 




